I Walk Alone
by punkydiva17
Summary: *Story Completed* General Manager Mira Barrera is dragged out of her position when trouble strikes the roster. Is anyone going to be able to help her out?
1. Bittersweet Departure

**Chapter One: Bittersweet Departure**

_No._

The words on the computer screen were barely registering. No matter how many times she read over it and read over it, her ice blue eyes refused to take it in. This couldn't be happening. This was her first night as the new General Manager of Raw. She had finally managed to bring back some of the boys from ECW and from SmackDown, and now this was happening. Or was it? It all felt so surreal that it just wouldn't register with her.

Then the tears started to well up. The hot, salty water burning behind her eyelids told her that everything that she was reading was real. It was more real than she would ever know. The bold black words on were telling her the inevitable had finally happened and it suddenly felt like a knife had plunged deep into her heart. She wanted to stand, but she couldn't. It felt as though her legs were like jelly.

Torrie Wilson walked in, dressed in a pair of faded blue jeans and a pink tank top, her little puppy Chloe cradled under her arm, her bleached blonde hair in a high ponytail. She took one look at new General Manager/ex-Women's Champion Mira Barrera and her face instantly burrowed concern.

"What's the matter?" she asked. "First night getting to you already?"

"Get Angle."

"Oh." It dawned on Torrie. She nodded and left the office, the look on Mira's face telling her that she did not want to attempt to argue with the new General Manager on this night.

Jonathan Coachman slunk in a few seconds later, wearing a "Cause I'm The Coach, That's Why" T-shirt and trackpants. Mr. McMahon had put him in a match against John Cena that night, and it was approaching quickly. He wasn't too happy about yet again being passed over and having to face Cena, who wasn't the Coach's biggest fan. Not like he was a big fan of John Cena's either, though.

"What do you want, Coach?" she sighed, running a hand over her ruby red hair. This was not exactly shaping up to be the best night ever, and it was only her first night as GM. She was already contemplating throwing in the towel.

"I wanted to talk to you," he confessed, "and say thank you for keeping me here on Raw."

"Don't flatter yourself," she snapped bitterly, "nobody else wanted you."

"Are you kidding?" he asked, his huge brown eyes widening more with emphasis. "I'm the Coach - everybody wants me!"

"Is that what your mom still tells you, sweetie?" she asked, her tone still patronizing, yet gentle at the same time. He didn't know if she was still being sarcastic or genuine with her tone. His face darkened.

"We're not going to have any problems are we?" he demanded.

"Not if you don't plan on making any," was her icy retort. He nodded and stalked out. She sat back.

Kurt Angle was packing his duffel bag. He turned to look at the locker room. After almost seven years, this was it. The last time he'd ever board that airplane, the last time he'd ever hear, "You suck". This was it. He needed it. It had been so long since he had felt any sort of rest, and the injuries were starting to pile up worse than they had in his twenty-plus years of amateur wrestling. He had already said goodbye to Rey Mysterio and Batista, over the phone, the news of his departure had sent shockwaves through the company.

There was a knock on the door. "Yeah?" he called out. Torrie Wilson timidly entered the room, her eyes darting around nervously. She and Kurt had quite a past together, stemming back to his days as the SmackDown General Manager, when he had stuffered extensive injuries coming to her rescue at the hands of the Big Show.

But the air was uncomfortable, yet light at the same time. "Torrie, hi!" He gave her a hug. "What can I do for you?"

"Mira wants to see you. She's looking pretty upset. I think she didn't know."

"Shit." Kurt ran a hand over his bald head, and stared at the wall. She was the last person he wanted to talk to about his leaving. He had ducked her calls, he had ducked her in general. "What do you think would happen if I just left?"

"I'd have to kill you."

They turned to find Mira leaned against the doorway, the mascara only slightly ringing her eyes. She was dressed in a pinstripe suit with a V-neck black shirt. "Torrie, I'll take it from here," she replied softly. Torrie nodded and left.

Then they stood, all alone. And the atmosphere suddenly got so thick it felt like neither of them could breathe. It was awkward, and it was tense. "So, it's going to be like this?" she inquired.

"Mira..."

"No. If you wanted a release, you could have come to me..."

"And then what? You would have tried to talk me out of it..."

"I would have understood!" she said, her voice raising to a yell. "You know, it's one thing to go over my head to Mr. McMahon for it, but how long have you known you weren't going to do this anymore?"

He took a minute to contemplate the answer. "It's been a while."

"How long?"

"A few months."

"Few months," she murmured. "And you sat here and ducked me like I was the plague because of that? How could you let me think you were angry with me when you were planning to leave this whole time?"

"Mira, with all due respect, this is my decision..."

"I fought my ass off to get you back to Raw, and you knew you had no plans to stay here?" she screamed. His eyes widened; he had never seen her get so angry before. It kind of scared him. Girls that got angry like that were capable of anything. Hell, the last time he had seen her so angry was the night she caught Randy Orton with Candice Michelle.

His face fell as he saw more tears welling up. "Christ, Kurt, I can understand if you can't do this anymore. I can sympathize. It's a hard job, it's hard on us emotionally, it's hard on us physically. But...you always tell me I'm like your younger sister, and... how could you even contemplate leaving without saying goodbye? How can you ignore me and not tell me? I had to find it out from You think Batista's shocked? At least he's known for a few days!"

He tried to move towards her, but he was slightly afraid to. Maybe not so much afraid, but uncomfortable. "Mira, this was the exact reaction that I didn't want to tell you. I knew you'd be upset like this. Come here." He opened his arms and she gave him a hug. He could feel her body racked with sobs. "I'll keep in touch, Mira. But good luck as General Manager of Raw. You got the dominant brand. You drew a good card. Cena, Orton, DX. I'll still be watching." He pulled away and she nodded.

"Bye, Kurt."

"My first and only female wrestling student," he mused. "I'm proud of you and your accomplishments. Don't ever forget that." She nodded and when the door finally closed and he was gone, she sank down into a steel chair and began to cry uncontrollably.

John Cena was curious. The new GM wasn't in her office. He really needed to talk to her. He had a match coming up against Edge, and he didn't have time to play find-a-General-Manager. Readjusting the Chain Gang baseball cap that casted the intense darkness over his clear blue eyes, he began to walk down the hallway, running his tongue along the inside of his cheek in frustration.

As he came across an empty locker room he could hear some soft crying, and he could hear a young woman telling herself, "Stop it. You have a show to run."

He was slightly mystified, but then he remembered the first night he had met her. They were both on SmackDown - she had come to Raw just prior to his transfer. She had helped him ward off a double team from Brock Lesnar and Sable, and he had gone to thank her, only to find out that she had been the infamous Mira Barrera, Kurt Angle's only female protege. She was good in the ring; she had to be. Everyone who knew Kurt Angle knew that he would waste his time on nothing less than perfection.

He lightly rapped on the door.

She heard the light rapping on the door, and she straightened up. She looked up to say, "Hold on," but she was already face-at-waist level with John Cena. "Fuck," she murmured, and exhaled. "Is there something wrong with waiting in my office?" she asked, her tone slightly irritated.

"There is when you've been waiting in there for an hour," he answered. Her eyes widened and her gaze shifted from his face to her watch.

"Has it been...Jesus." She stopped crying as a slight laughter came over her. "Jesus, I am so sorry. What can I do for you, John?" She tried to fix up her rundown mascara, but it still stayed. He even had to smile.

"I, uh, came to let you know that it's time to renegotiate my contract..." She groaned. "What's up with you?"

"You said the C-word."

"Contract?" Then it dawned on him. "Oh, yeah, been a rough night, huh?"

"You don't even know the half of it."

"I can guess," he replied, sitting down beside her. "You just find out Lumpy was leaving?" She nodded. "Ouch. That's rough. Couldn't even come and tell you."

"Cena..."

"Sorry. None of my business I know. But you got a show to run, and things like this will happen."

"Trish Stratus and Kurt Angle in a day? Theodore Long must be laughing his ass off, and Paul Heyman must be killing himself to have 'pulled one over' on the newbie." She shook her head. "No wonder he was so damn anxious to pass the contract. I didn't know and they all knew!" She looked him in his twinkling blue eyes and laughed. "You want to laugh, too, go ahead."

"Well, I don't know how you didn't know. It's been circling all week."

"I've been in meetings. You can't just become GM overnight you know. You have meetings, and signings and...I can't believe this."

"Don't beat yourself up too hard over this. Shit happens," he replied. "Anyway, the other GMs gotta rib on the newbie. You gotta appreciate that they respect you enough to do that."

"He wasn't even going to say goodbye, John."

"Mira, stop beating yourself up over this," he laughed, "you're too rough on yourself. Now, I have to go for my match against Edge. So, I suggest you clean yourself up, go back to your office, and try to put a smile on. You get too down on yourself then our locker room's gonna suffer. I can't be cheerin' up people all the time." She smiled.

"I know. Thank you, Cena. I appreciate it." He gave her a pat on the back and left the locker room. When the door closed she went and took a good long look in the mirror. Mira Barerra, twenty-four, two time women's champion, with the coolest theme performed by her favorite band, Collective Soul. She always heard the whispers about how good she was, working with Kurt Angle and all, and she still managed to keep herself humble about it.

The thought of Kurt, her mentor, her trainer, her friend, sent tears to her eyes and she pushed the thoughts out of her mind. It was hard enough knowing that she wasn't going to get to see her best friend anymore.

Teasing her ruby hair and forcing a smile on her face, she left the shower stall area and made her way down to the hallway, but when she made it back to her office, and opened the heavy black doors that bore her name, she froze in what had to be described as only shock and horror.

_Who, or what, is stretched out before her? Tune in to find out..._


	2. Case of the Ex

**Chapter Two: Case of the Ex**

_Teasing her ruby hair and forcing a smile on her face, she left the shower stall area and made her way down to the hallway, but when she made it back to her office, and opened the heavy black doors that bore her name, she froze in what had to be described as only shock and horror. _

Randy Orton sat behind the long oak desk, his long legs rested up on the desktop. He wore a "Fully Evolved" T-shirt, and black trunks, that trademark cocky grin that he insisted he was born with marring his boyish features. He had his arms rested behind his head, as though he was relaxed during his waiting period for her.

Mira bit her lower lip. He was the last man she wanted to see. She had been fearing this moment since he had been drafted to SmackDown. She feared running into him again. The last time she had seen him - and Candice Michelle, for that matter - she had thrown that beautiful diamond engagement ring at him and when he had tried to calm her down, she slapped him hard enough to give him a shiner. She had remembered smiling in satisfaction when she had seen him on SmackDown, his eye that hellish purple color.

But now, here he was. And the tension was so thick that it could be cut with a knife. She couldn't handle this. Not now. Trish - her good friend and trusted confidante - was retiring, and Kurt her mentor was gone, and her head was spinning from meetings. And now here he was. Him, of all people.

"Well, you sure look happy to see me," he replied mockingly.

"Get your feet off of my desk and get your ass out of my seat," she replied through clenched teeth. The first task of proving to everyone that she couldn't be walked all over was underway. She wanted to be known as a respectable tyrant. She wanted to be admired like Stephanie McMahon, she wanted to have authority like Mr. McMahon, and she wanted to be able to stay like that without reaching King Booker and Sharmell proportions.

The cocky smirk still on his face, he swung his long legs off of the bench and stood up. "Milady," he said, motioning to her seat. She rolled her eyes and sat down.

"Why are you here?" she asked.

"What? Can't I check up on my ex and see how she's enjoying her first night at the helm of Raw?"

Mira bit her lip. "Fine," she replied. "Anything else?"

"You looking to get rid of me already?"

"Honestly? Yes," she answered. "How's Candice?"

"Ouch."

"You deserve it."

"Well, to be fair, she and I broke up just after I got to SmackDown."

"Oh, poor you, to lose two women in a month."

"Deserved that one, too," he conceded. "I'm here to apologize." She refused to let him off that easily.

"Do you even know what that word means?" she asked. He could tell she still took the hurt with her.

"I know, I've been a jerk. I just want to say I'm sorry. I know I hurt you..."

"I don't think you have any idea."

"You're right; I probably don't."

"Are you here to kiss my ass or something? Cause if that's the case you can leave right now."

"Still that mad. I get it."

"Can you just make your point and get out?"

"Mira, I wanted to ask if I can have a match against Kane. I know you. You breathe this business and you saw what he did to me last week. I want him. In the ring."

"Then you have him. Top of the seven o'clock hour."

"Thanks." He still stood there, the two of them drinking in the awkward silence. She just wished he would leave. "So, um, do we hug...or shake hands...?"

"No. You just go." He nodded and left. She collapsed into her seat and rubbed her burning eyes. She had debuted, wide-eyed and naive, only to have to manage former WWE Champion Brock Lesnar. When things had ended - quite ugly actually, she had endured an F5 after costing him the title to Kurt Angle by accident - she had tried to walk alone. But when she transferred to Raw in 2004, she found herself in a whole new ballpark, with a whole new list of self-proclaimed playboys. None more rampant than Mr. Legend Killer himself.

So after she went and congratulated him on a title win, she suddenly found herself wrapped up in things that she just didn't understand, or didn't have the chance to understand. It all happened really fast. Next thing she knew she was with him for almost a year and then she caught him with Miss Candice, a woman she had branded useless since her debut as a Diva Search reject. She thought that Maria was the biggest threat, but boy, did she soon learn wrong.

But she moved on from that. Stayed single. Had great friends in Shelton Benjamin, Torrie Wilson and Shawn Michaels. Shawn had to be one of the most spiritual and wisest men on the WWE roster, and she always loved talking with him, especially about stories of the things he would do with the original D-Generation X. She groaned; if only she had heeded their warnings about Randy Orton, then maybe she wouldn't be so bitter and cynical.

She got on the computer and began chatting with some WWE fans on Interactive. She laughed; Jerry Lawler was right. When you talked to them online, they all didn't believe you. She shook her head at the people that were really asking if it was her, and she laughed at the ones gutsy enough to tell her she was hot online. With a body like Lara Croft, eyes like a sky, and hair like a ruby, she had to admit she was. But for people to tell her, it always made her blush just a little more than slightly.

As she was chatting and enjoying herself online, 2006 Diva Search winner Layla El burst in. She was clearly in a panic, her hair out and about, her brown eyes wild. She was dressed in a pink minidress, and she was jumping up and down as though her message couldn't come out.

Mira stood up. "Layla -?"

"Mira, you need to come with me - now."

"What..."

"NOW!"

_What has Layla El so damn excited? Tune in to find out._


	3. A New Addition

**Chapter Three: A New Addition**

_As she was chatting and enjoying herself online, 2006 Diva Search winner Layla El burst in. She was clearly in a panic, her hair out and about, her brown eyes wild. She was dressed in a pink minidress, and she was jumping up and down as though her message couldn't come out. _

_Mira stood up. "Layla -?"_

_"Mira, you need to come with me - now."_

_"What..."_

_"NOW!"_

Getting up from her desk, Mira followed Layla out into the halls of the Gund Arena in Cleveland, Ohio, and down the hallway towards the main entrance. "Layla! What happened? Did somebody get jumped? Layla, slow down!"

Layla stopped, her eyes still wild with expression. "We've been invaded!"

"What?" she shook her head and made her way to the main entrance to find ECW Extremist Test standing before her, dressed in a Motley Crue T-shirt and jeans. "Test! What are you doing here?"

"If you would call off security, I could tell you," he snapped, eyeing the head of Raw security coldly. They stared at Mira, who nodded and they let him alone.

"What brings you here?"

He handed her a note. "Heyman sent me here. I've been suspended from ECW, so he's sending me to serve out my ninety day sentence here."

She stared down incredulously at the note. "What the hell are we, in kindergarten, you have to hand me a note?" She exhaled and turned to Layla. "You settle him in. I need to go give Paul E. a call." Layla nodded and led Test down towards the locker room as Mira went back to her office, prepared to tear Paul Heyman a new one.

Slamming the door shut, she went straight to the phone and sat down, picking up the phone and dialing Paul Heyman in Philadelphia. "This is Paul Heyman, owner of ECW. If this is you-know-who-calling-about-the-you-know-what, I'll call you back as soon as you get this message." She sighed, annoyed.

"Paul E., you dummy, Mira Barrera calling from Raw," she snapped into the phone. "What the hell is this bullshit about Test coming here to serve out a suspension! Call me back or I swear to God, I'm... I'm... I'm gonna tell Vince!" She knew it sounded childish, but she didn't care as she slammed the phone down. After the intial thirty seconds, she began to laugh at how childish she sounded.

"Sounds like you heard something funny."

She looked up to see John Cena, showered and cleaned up from his match. He sat down in the chair across from her. "Yeah. Just when you thought the night couldn't pick up anymore, Layla comes in and says that we're being invaded."

"Invaded?"

"Yeah. So I get there, and there's Test."

"Test? Like, as in, ECW Test?" he inquired. She nodded. "What's he doing here?"

"Serving out a ninety day suspension from Paul Heyman. Wanna see the note?"

He laughed. "A note?" She laughed to and handed him the note. He unfolded it and read over it. "Well, I'll be damned," he murmured, laughing. "Let's give WWE that old-elementary school quality."

"That's not all."

"What? Could this get any better?" he asked.

"Well...I called Paul E. to get an explanation, and...well, I told him if he didn't call me, I was going to tell Vince," she laughed, burrowing her head in her arms on the desk. Cena laughed.

"Wow. Queen of the comebacks." She laughed some more. "It's nice to see you laughing. Earlier you seemed a little worse for the wear."

"Well, a little while ago, I didn't have a child-off with Paul Heyman." They laughed again. The phone rang and she arched an eyebrow. "What do you know? Maybe it worked." They laughed and she straightened up as she answered the phone. "Barrera."

"Paul E. here. Test show up?"

"Yeah. What the hell is that all about, Heyman?"

"Unpaid ninety day suspension for hitting a fan. I'm really in a bind, so I ran it past Vince, and Vince okayed it."

"Did he really?"

"Yeah. Use him how you want. His contract's coming up anyway. Maybe you want him for you guys."

"Don't count on it. Talk to you later, Paul E." She hung up. "You know, I think he would make a great used car salesman. He's just so sleazy."

"Captain Buzzkill rollin' good?" he asked.

"I don't know," she admitted, " but I think he wants me to bring Test here to Raw."

"Are you?"

"I don't know. It's still my first night. What do you think should happen?"

"I think you should follow your instinct. It's why you're here, ain't it?" He stood up. "I gotta get rolling. I gotta catch a flight to do some movie stuff tomorrow. Have a good night, and good luck."

"Cena?"

Her voice rang out into the room, soft and clear, and he stopped, a small smile tugging at his lips. "What's up?" he asked.

"I just wanted to let you know... I think Kurt was wrong about you."

He smiled. "Thanks. I appreciate hearing that," he told her and he left.

Meanwhile, Test was standing in the hallway next to Randy Orton. Orton was dressed up in a huge button-down yellow shirt and black slacks and he was talking quickly to Test. "Think you finally met your match?" Test asked.

"Well, I've had her, but Mira...Mira was something else," he told him. "She's changed, though. She was so wide-eyed and innocent when I got to her. Now...man, you should have heard her when I was in her office earlier."

"She hates you. You must be so proud."

"Before that suspension? Yeah, I probably was. But now... I want to make things right."

"Good luck. Need I remind you that you cheated on her with Candice?" Randy smirked. "I've heard stories, so you have to shoot with me? How did it go down?"

"Maria." He shook his head. "She spent all that time wondering about Maria and I and who knew she'd be the one to out Candice and I?" he shook his head for emphasis. "Definition of irony?"

"How'd she handle it? I heard she flew off the wall."

"How'd you think I wound up sporting that shiner?" he asked. "She has a hell of a slap. Steph is in competition."

"What'd you do in retaliation?"

"Proposed to Candice with the ring."

"Oh, I'm sure that flew over real well."

"Don't know about Mira, but it sure didn't fly with Candice."

"I'd imagine so, you cheap bastard. You could have sprung for another ring."

"Anyway, I need to ask you a favor."

"Shoot, man, what's up?"

_Curious about what Randy Orton has to ask of Test? Keep tuning in to find out._


	4. On The Spot

**Chapter Four: On The Spot**

_"Anyway, I need to ask you a favor."_

_"Shoot, man, what's up?"_

Dressed up in a black miniskirt and a black halter, Mira entered the MCI Center in Washington, D.C., prepared to start another fun-filled episode of Monday night Raw. It was the first night without Kurt and Trish there. She could feel the loneliness and she could sense the change in morale amongst the Superstars and Divas. Ignoring the mood and pushing the thoughts of her friends out of her mind, she pulled open the office doors and walked in to find John Cena sitting in a chair, hat tipped over his face as though he were sleeping.

"Not fair," she insisted, "I'm here and I'm on time!" she motioned to her watch. She could see a wide smile tugging at Cena's lips as he tipped his hat back onto his head.

"Doesn't mean I wasn't here before you. Maybe I could be GM."

"Be my guest," she replied. "Beats the hell out of me dealing with Orton every week." She shrugged. "He makes Heyman look like an angel."

"Okay, now you're just being dramatic."

"You didn't go out with him."

"Is this some kind of a weird segway to tell me I gotta manage the Legend Killer?" he asked. She shook her head.

"Sometimes I wonder if you knocked your head as a child," she answered.

"See, now why you gotta be like that?" he asked. She knew of his reputation of being a flirt and on this night, she figured it couldn't hurt to act back. "That hurts my feelings."

"You have feelings to hurt?" she asked. He smirked.

"Man, you are hostile. Your plans for Raw tonight?"

"I thought I'd stick you up against Chris Masters. Submission match. Master Lock vs. the STFU. Work for you?"

"Always."

"I thought you'd be for it."

He stared her up and down. "I'm up for anything," he smirked.

"Well, then I'd imagine Chris Masters is looking forward to the match as much as you," she replied. He smirked. "Good luck out there tonight." She stood up to see him out and he stood up and moved closer to her. "Why are you such a flirt?" she asked, smirking.

"Am I interrupting something?"

Mira jumped at the sound of the third party voice and they turned to see Test. "No, Test," she replied, shooting daggers at John Cena. _Damn him for being such a flirt! _Her mind was screaming. _Last thing I need is Test running to the Board. _"Cena was just leaving for his match against Chris Masters."

Obviously defeated, Cena nodded and bid the duo farewell before leaving. "What's up, Test?"

"Not too much. I just wanna know why you think you're better than Randy Orton?"

His tone struck a nerve. Since he had won that no-fire clause in his contract several years back, he had acted like a real jerk. Not only to the referees and other guys, but to Stacy Keibler, Trish Stratus and a whole whack of other Divas. She didn't like Test, and she hated Paul Heyman for sticking him there on her show.

She straightened her spine, her icy eyes blazing like cold fire. "I don't think that's any of your damn business, Test," she replied, spitting emphasis into his name. "You and Randy are cut from the same cloth and I will make it clear that I don't like either of you. Point in fact, I despise you two. You and Randy Orton are two conceited, arrogant jerks who figure that any woman will fall at your feet and you exploit that.

"I don't feel I'm better than Randy Orton. I don't feel like I'm better than anyone. But why don't you go and ask Orton about Candice Michelle and you tell me why I think he's a lowlife scumbag." She stared at him in utter disgust. "Get out."

"What?"

"I said get out. You and your boy Orton have a tag team match tonight against D-Generation X." She wanted to add, "And I hope they kick your ass," but she managed to keep her glossy pink lips shut until Test stormed out and she collapsed in her chair, completely exhausted, physically and mentally. She wasn't liking this job too much.

There was a knock on the door. "What now?" she groaned out loud. She stared at her watch. She was already in a bad mood and she'd been there for a half hour.

It was Carlito. He looked semi-depressed. After all, prior to Trish's departure, the two of them had a bit of a thing going. He really liked her, and now she was gone. She felt sorry for him. He was throwing an apple languidly into the air and catching it, dressed in a tropical printed button-down shirt and khakis, his afro wild.

"Hi, Carlito. How are you doing?" she asked

"Tired," he admitted in his thick Caribbean accent. He motioned to the chair. "Mind if I take a seat?"

"Not at all," she told him. "What's on your mind?" she asked as he sat down.

"You can feel the new atmosphere here," he said, "can't you?"

"Yeah," she admitted, "and it's not cool." He chuckled. "What can I do for you?"

"I wanted a shot at the Intercontinental title."

"Jeff Hardy is the number one contender, but I will tell you what. How about I stick you three - Nitro, included - in a three way elimination battle for it?" He nodded, and got up to leave.

"Oh, before I go," he told her. "Coach is out in the ring. He's calling you out, and I think your night just may get a little bit more interesting."

She groaned. What did he want?

_Jonathan Coachman in a ring normally doesn't symbolize anything good. Mira already knows this. So what does he have in store for her now?_


	5. Theodore Long Strikes

**Chapter Five - Theodore Long Strikes**

_"Oh, before I go," he told her. "Coach is out in the ring. He's calling you out, and I think your night just may get a little bit more interesting."_

_She groaned. What did he want?_

She stood behind the curtain and motioned for the DJ to play the music. Her theme began to blare and she walked out, microphone clutched tightly in her hand. She climbed into the ring, and stood before Jonathan Coachman as her theme faded into oblivion.

"Wow. I've only been calling you out here for five minutes," Coach told her, smiling in his usual cocky manner.

"I'm busy, Coach, not that you'd know anything about being a GM," she replied. Coach flinched slightly, her shot leaving a direct hit."So, what do you want? Can we make this quick? I have a pay-per-view main event to sign later tonight between John Cena and Edge."

"I just wanted you to come out here and address to the fans the situation regarding our little problem." She stared at him oddly.

"Problem?" He nodded, a twinkle in his coffee eyes. "What problem?"

"You mean, our busy GM didn't get the memo?" he quizzed.

"Well, forgive me, I guess the brass gives memos to ass kissers before GMs, Coach, so why don't you enlighten me?" her tone was harsh, cynical, and it even took Coach aback slightly.

"How's the WWE Championship thing going?" he asked. She stared at him oddly.

"Contract signing tonight, Coach. Would you just cut to the chase? Or do you want me to fire you instead?"

Coach instantly looked spooked. "Edge jumped ship to SmackDown with the title. Said he was tired of fighting Cena." Mira closed her eyes. _Shit._ She could hear the collective sigh of shock coming from the crowd and she had to think fast. This was what Coach wanted; he wanted to humiliate her.

She put the microphone to her lips and said, "Well, Coach, I'll tell you what..." She paused to think. How could he do this to her in front of the fans. She sighed; his T-shirt said it all: "Cause I'm the Coach, that's why". "I need to speak with Mr. McMahon before I do anything in case he's already made the arrangements, but since you like to cause some trouble, how about you take on Shelton Benjamin tonight?" His face dropped and she dropped the microphone to the mat and left the ring, a self-satisfied smirk on her face. Being GM definitely had its perks.

"Wow. You look mad enough to kill somebody."

Taking a sigh and turning around, she was caught off guard to see SmackDown's champion Dave Batista standing behind her. She was stunned at his presence. Standing at six-foot-five, he towered over her by at least half a foot. His huge muscular frame was clothed in a pinstripe navy suit with a white collared/blue shirt with a red tie and those sunglasses she loved so much adorning his face. The World Heavyweight Championship was slung over his broad left shoulder. He extended his hand. "Mira Barerra. I've been following you pretty closely."

She could feel herself blush, but every Diva had that reaction around him. After all, he was Dave Batista!

"Just Coach."

"Ah." Just his name alone required no further information. Everyone knew that Coach was a certified pain in the ass. "Sounds like he intercepted the memo."

"So what brings you here, Batista?" she asked, ignoring his observation. "More bad news?"

"No, on the contrary," he informed her. "Can we go to your office?"

"Sure thing," she replied and he followed her down the halls of the arena into her office. Closing the door behind her, she motioned for him to take a seat. "What's on your mind, Batista, what are you doing here?"

"I am the bearer of good news tonight," he informed her. She cocked an eyebrow quizzically as she sat down in her chair.

"Really?" she asked. He nodded. "Tell me it's better news than what I've got the last week."

"On the heels of Edge jumping ship, McMahon decided he didn't want to have a new title drafted and do all that unity stuff, so... I'm home." Her eyes widened.

"You mean to tell me that I have Batista, Orton, Triple H and Flair all back on one roster?" she asked. He nodded.

"Don't start getting your visions of Evolution reunions in your head," he advised her. "Orton wouldn't go for it and neither would I."

"Thanks for raining on the parade," she said with a deep breath. "What makes you so willing to be here?"

"I'm sick of fighting King Booker." She laughed. "Pushing Cena-Edge too hard?" he inquired.

"No. Cena had a rematch clause, and I was merely trying to enforce it." They fell silent.

"So, first night without Angle." She flinched. He didn't mean it to hurt her, she knew. It was no secret how close she and Angle really were. "How'd you take the news when you heard?"

"Oh, you mean when I read 'Batista Reacts To Kurt's Early Release' on last week?" she inquired.

"Ouch."

"Yeah." She shook her head. "Anyway, welcome to Raw." She extended her hand and he took it. It was clear Kurt's departure was still a tender subject and he knew well enough to leave it alone. Especially after seeing the shiner she gave Randy Orton. He knew she could knock someone senseless.

Mira's cell phone rang at the end of the night and she answered it as she loaded her briefcase into the car. "Hello? Oh, hi, Mr. McMahon. What's up?" She listened to him at the other end. "Oh. Okay. You want me to go out there? Yeah, sure thing. Does he know?" She listened intently. "Okay. Great. Thanks, Mr. McMahon. Talk to you later."

Of course, in Mira's excitement, she didn't realize that she wasn't the only one in the empty parking lot.

_Who was listening in on Mira's conversation? What does Mr. McMahon want with her? Does this have anything to do with the alliance between Test and Randy Orton? You will soon find out..._


	6. A Signing

**_Thank you so much to everybody that has been posting reviews. I really appreciate hearing what you think. I hope you enjoy chapter six. _**

**Chapter Six: A Signing**

_Mira's cell phone rang at the end of the night and she answered it as she loaded her briefcase into the car. "Hello? Oh, hi, Mr. McMahon. What's up?" She listened to him at the other end. "Oh. Okay. You want me to go out there? Yeah, sure thing. Does he know?" She listened intently. "Okay. Great. Thanks, Mr. McMahon. Talk to you later."_

_Of course, in Mira's excitement, she didn't realize that she wasn't the only one in the empty parking lot._

John Cena rolled over in the bed of his hotel room and groaned. Last night was a total blur. Then he saw the empty bottle of tequila on the nightstand and the ransacked room and it _partially_ came flooding back.

He heard the keycard in his hotel room door and he was stunned to see Mira walk in, dressed casually in blue jeans and an old school "Word Life" ringer tee, her hair in braided pigtails. "Morning, sunshine," she replied airily. His response was to drop back onto the pillows and groan. His groan grew louder when she flung open the curtains, exposing the bright New York sunlight directly onto his face.

"Why you gotta do that?" he moaned.

"Because I like seeing you in pain," she said coyly. She gave his leg a pat. "Now, get yourself up."

He groaned again, hiding his face with his pillow. "Why are you here?" he called out into the pillow. His voice came out muffled and distorted. Mira had to grin; Cena hung over, well, it was kind of cute.

"I got a call from Vince last night. I am joining you for a one day only appearance for your Marine promotion." He groaned again. "Come on, you big baby, get up."

"Big baby?" The pillow left his face. He held up the empty tequila bottle.

"You must be so proud," she replied. "Now hurry up, the limo's waiting downstairs." He pulled back the covers, clad in nothing but Chain Gang boxers and he slowly swung his legs over the edge of the bed, forcing himself to sit up, groaning with each movement.

"You are such a baby."

"My head's spinning; leave me alone," he murmured, disappearing into the bathroom.

When he emerged, dressed in his trademark cutoffs and a Hustle, Loyalty, Respect T-shirt, he looked a little more refreshed. Mind you, he had been in the shower for more than a half hour and she had been banging on the door the whole time after each impatient call from the limo driver. She yanked on his wrist and led him to the elevator. "Wow, don't be so rough," he taunted, his face crossing into a smile.

"Shut up," was her tart retort.

"Do I sense a little hostility?" he asked.

"No, you sense great impatience, and you haven't seen the limo driver yet." She hit the button to the lobby. She was furious with him.

"Don't be mad. It was just a couple people, and..."

"Let's just go," she replied. The elevator door opened silently and she went to walk out, but he pulled her back into the elevator. "John - what the hell?"

"I'm sure the the driver won't mind if we're a little more -" She pressed the door open button and walked out.

"Get a move on," she called back. With a deep breath, he followed.

Halfway out of the lobby, Cena stopped again. Frustrated, ready to rip his eyes out of his head, she turned around. "Can you just come on?" she demanded, her eyes wide for emphasis.

"Not until you tell me you're not mad at me."

"Oh for..." she rolled her eyes. "Cena, I'm not mad at you. Can we go now?"

"I don't think you meant it." Fuming, she grabbed his wrist and began to pull. He started laughing and she felt slightly embarassed as the people around them started staring at them. "Cena, you're going to get me in trouble with Vince."

Finally, he took a step forward, but just about took her down in the process. She cried out but he straightened her up. With a violent scowl, she pushed the doors open and stormed out.

There was a crowd of fans around the limo. Mira said a quick hello and climbed in. John Cena, on the other hand, was not a man to do things lightly. "Chain Gang, what's good?" he called out. Furious, she grabbed the back of his shirt and yanked on it, causing him to lose his balance and fall into the limo. The driver closed the door, relieved that it was over.

"Man, you're rough!" he said, laughing.

"Shut up," she snapped.

"Oh, don't be like that," he pleaded.

"I thought it's supposed to go like this," she replied. "I'm a GM, remember? I'm not supposed to like you."

"Damn it," she murmured, checking the dainty watch on her left wrist. "We are so late."

"Oh, chill out. Lighten up. It's only an interview and an autograph signing."

"That we are a half hour late for," she snapped. "More than that when we get there." She rested her head on her hand and murmured, "Fuck."

He actually felt slightly guilty, but decided to deny her victory. "So why did Vince want you here?"

"Because I'm the GM, and I am proud to finally see this movie hit the theaters. I plan to be there opening night."

"Really?" he asked, surprised. She nodded, and they fell silent again. She stared out the tinted windows at the rushing traffic and trees. They were silent, as she stared out the window, her mind racing. And he knew there was only one thing she was thinking about:

"Mira, do you still have something there for Orton?"

She stared out the window, contemplating that answer. "No," she replied softly, "I don't." She remembered that night.

**He was walking along the beach, and he could hear her screams into the night. They echoed through the sky before fading into oblivion, only to be followed by loud, heartbreaking sobs. This was it.**

**He had found her.**

**He ventured further down the beach, to find her curled up, her knees to her chest, her arms crossed to hold them in place, still dressed in her white sundress. The angel in white. She was rocking softly back and forth sobbing violently. "Son of a bitch!" she screamed into the empty night, who could only echo her sentiments back to her.**

**"Alert the press," he replied, coming up behind her, "Raw's favorite Diva has been found!"**

**She looked up to see Kurt Angle, dressed in blue jeans and a red GAP shirt. "Jesus," she murmured, wiping the tears from her eyes. She looked up at him and asked, "How did you find me?"**

**"Mira, you're my friend," he replied, sitting down beside her on the beach. "I know you." She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes again. She looked out at the horizon, its deep cobalt color matching her feelings. **

**"So, you finally caught him, huh?"**

**She turned her face to Kurt Angle, her eyes wide. "You mean, you knew?" she demanded.**

**"Hell, everyone knew," Kurt informed her. "You were the only one that didn't." **

**"Oh, God..." Mira cradled her face in her hands. She felt so humiliated. "Why didn't you tell me, you bastard?"**

**"Because it's something that you needed to find out for yourself." She nodded. Her cell phone went off. She picked it up, stared at it and dropped it to the sand, her face crumpling. **

**"Orton?"**

**"He hasn't stopped phoning since I left," she replied. "I hate him. God damn him!"**

**"Is it over?"**

**With a deep breath, she nodded. "Yeah, Kurt," she said softly, looking out at the water, "it's over."**

**"Think you should tell him?"**

**"I think the left side of his face is going to make him aware of it for a while." The ringing stopped, only to be replaced with the ringtone of her text message feature. She picked it up and read it, her face going from disgust to hurt to just her sobs starting over again.**

**"What is it?" Kurt asked. She handed him the phone.**

**They were engaged - her ring was now on Candice's finger.**

"Mira? Mira, Earth to Mira!"

"Huh?" The sound of John Cena's laid-back voice snapped her out of her reverie. "I'm sorry, John. What did you say?"

"I said we're here. You coming out or what?"

"Oh. Yeah. Right." The driver opened the door and Cena climbed out. He extended his hand to Mira and helped her out. "Sorry for being such a pain earlier."

"Don't worry about it," she replied. He put an arm around her waist and she felt her knees slightly buckle as he pulled her closer to him to pose for a picture. With bright smiles on their faces, they posed before being led to the interview post. WWE cameras were there, along with cameras for Entertainment Tonight and Access Hollywood.

As she watched Cena work the cameras, she couldn't stop the feeling of pride that came over her. A movie, a CD under his belt, and he was on her roster! And she wouldn't let him go for anything. As far as she was concerned, John Cena was her crowned jewel of Raw. Not Batista, not DX, definitely not Orton. John Cena.

"I'd like to bring over the greatest girl in the world," Cena was telling Access Hollywood as he made his way towards Mira. She felt the blood drain from her face into her feet.

"Cena -" she began to protest.

"What's your relationship with this young woman?" one of the reporters asked.

"She's the Bonnie to my Clyde," he claimed with pride.

"More like Moneypenny to your James Bond," she replied. She could hear the collective ouch from the reporters and Cena kind of took a step back. It was such a lighthearted gathering that she easily loosened up and enjoyed herself.

"Hello?...Yeah, man, it's me. What's up? Yeah. You would not believe this...yeah, Mira and John Cena... I think there might be something up with him. They've been touchy-feely all day. Hold on." A picture is flashed of the duo vamping for the camera. "I really think she might run to the arms of Cena...okay. Bye."

_It looks like the Internet may be running up the rumor mill. Or is there a viper in the midst? What will happen when Mira and Cena return to Raw for Unforgiven? Read along, read along..._


	7. Unforgiven Drama

**Chapter Seven: Unforgiven Drama**

_"Hello?...Yeah, man, it's me. What's up? Yeah. You would not believe this...yeah, Mira and John Cena... I think there might be something up with him. They've been touchy-feely all day. Hold on." A picture is flashed of the duo vamping for the camera. "I really think she might run to the arms of Cena...okay. Bye."_

The Divas sat around backstage, chatting about Unforgiven and the latest gossip. Mira was with them, dressed in a cream colored business suit and black shirt, chattering wildly with them.

"You will never believe what I heard!" Maria exclaimed, rushing up to them wildly, her doe eyes wide in excitement.

"What?" asked Mira.

"Check this out, you vixen," Maria replied, handing her an envelope. Curious, Mira opened the envelope and pulled out the papers. Her eyes widened as she read the headline "Mira Barerra and John Cena - what's the real story?" She laughed as she saw the photos of them hanging out at the interview, even a photo of her dragging him into the limo. She laughed. "Wow. Isn't this something."

"So, what is up with you and Cena?" Torrie Wilson inquired.

"Nothing," Mira insisted. "I got a call from Vince and he told me to accompany Cena on his trip. So I did."

"How was it?" Victoria asked.

"He was hungover and a pain in the ass," she admitted, "overall, though - fun. How can you not have fun with John Cena?" The girls all nodded in agreement.

Laughing, Maria said, "But that's not it. Take a look."

So Mira filed through the papers more and more, until the last one, which made the blood drain from her face and drop to her feet.

Brock Lesnar Poised to Make WWE Return.

"W-where...this...This is nothing more than an Internet rumor," Mira insisted, but the confidence was gone from her voice as she handed the envelope to Maria, her hands shaking. She remembered vividly, the feeling of being on his broad shoulders, only to be spun out and she cringed as she remembered the impact of her face crashing into the canvas. "Anybody starting to think I'm the J.Lo of WWE?" They all laughed.

"He could go to SmackDown," Victoria told her, and a faint glimmer of optimism crossed her face.

"Yeah. He could," she answered. "That's hoping if this is all true." She laughed. "I'm going to go back to my office. You guys need me, I'm there." They nodded and she managed to make herself walk back to her office. Not now, for crying out loud!

Randy Orton was there, dressed in a Fully Evolved T-shirt and black slacks, seated casually, not in her seat. She was semi-surprised, but from their last encounter, she was fully sure she had learned his lesson. "So, what's up with you and Cena?" he asked, his tone casual.

"You on the web, too?" she asked, laughing. He nodded. "Nothing," she insisted, "it was just an interview."

"How was your time in New York?" he asked. She looked up sharply.

"How did you know I was in New York?" she asked. "I could have been anywhere in the world."

"Well, as you recall, the McMahons and the Ortons have been friends for generations," he told her. She nodded, remembering.

"Sorry," she apologized, "lot on my mind lately." He was surprised she was being so civil, but he was not about to push his luck.

"Your thoughts on Brock's return?"

"Quite an asset if he comes to Raw. Let me guess: Maria and her magical envelope?" she asked. He nodded. "Wow. Talk about a way to get the rumor mill going."

"Yeah, Maria sure has a tendency to throw things out in the open," he murmured.

"I guess you'd know that better than anyone."

"I knew it," he murmured. "I knew we couldn't have one civil conversation."

"You're the one losing your temper," she replied calmly. If there was anything she knew how to do, it was push his buttons, and he hated it whenever he knew she was right. And she was this time around. She was the one staying calm. He sighed.

"You're right," he told her. "Anyway, I would like to know if I could get a shot at Batista's title for Survivor Series. I know I don't deserve it, but..."

"Oh, stop it," she told him, her face in her paperwork. She looked up at him. "If it was based on personal stuff, I'd say no. But you have been doing very well in the last couple weeks. You and Test both. So, tell you what. If you beat Shawn Michaels next week... you'll get your shot at Batista. I'll even type the contracts myself."

He was floored. He was almost certain she was going to cripple him professionally. She was never that kind of person, but he had really pissed her off. "Wow...um, thank you," he replied. "I appreciate it."

"Go on," she replied, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Get out of here."

He nodded and walked out.

Several hours later, John Cena walked in. He had just lost his match to Batista. "Hey, how's my favorite girlfriend?" he cracked. Her head jerked up sharply.

"You behind that?" she asked. He shook his head and raised his right hand.

"Swear on it. Maria's been flashing it around all night. Good pics, though. You look hot."

She ignored his flirty attitude. "I've already had Orton questioning me about it."

He sat down across from her. "I wanted to talk to you about something. This whole internet photo thing seems weird to me," he admitted. "I thought about it, but I don't recall seeing a single fan with a camera phone."

"How can you be so sure that it was a camera phone?" she inquired.

"It was too pixelated when they expanded it," he answered. "Didn't you notice how lousy and far away the quality was?"

She thought about it. "No. I didn't."

"Something to think about. Anyway, I gotta get rollin'. See you next week?"

"You know it," she answered. With a slap of the hands, Cena was gone, and Mira began to prepare for her leave.

She arrived back at her hotel room at about midnight, and she was exhausted in every facet of the word. This thing with her appearance with Cena was going to be a problem. She could sense it already. With a sigh, she locked the door, slid off her shoes and got into her pajamas, passing out almost as instantly as her head hit the pillow.

_Considering the last time they met, Brock Lesnar's return spells trouble. But for who? _


	8. Flashbacks

**Chapter Eight: Flashbacks**

_She arrived back at her hotel room at about midnight, and she was exhausted in every facet of the word. This thing with her appearance with Cena was going to be a problem. She could sense it already. With a sigh, she locked the door, slid off her shoes and got into her pajamas, passing out almost as instantly as her head hit the pillow._

Mira was in her office, typing up the contract between Randy Orton and Batista at Survivor Series - hey, she was true to her word, she was going to type this thing up herself.

There was a knock on the door. "Yeah?" she called out.

Maria walked in, dressed in a pair of black pants and a zebra print halter. Her eyes were wide. "You wanted to see me?"

"Yeah, can you go tell Candice that she is going to take on Mickie James at Survivor Series for the Women's title? I'm sorry to do this to you, Maria, but I really don't want to see her."

"I understand," Maria replied.

"And quit passing that envelope around!" Mira laughed, "I'm sick of answering questions!" Maria nodded and laughed, closing the door behind her.

**He entered the locker room, a cocky grin on his face. The grin abruptly left his face when he saw her, dressed up like a school girl, her red hair in pigtails, her neck adorned with a black choker. The gothic schoolgirl. Her eyes said it all.**

**Why?**

**"Oh, don't start that on me," he murmured and stormed past her. Her jaw dropped and she wheeled around on him.**

**"Don't start what? Kurt's your friend and you...you...you sold your soul to the devil!"**

**"I did not! Vince McMahon understands the real me?"**

**"And I don't?"**

**"No, you don't!"**

**She stared at him, stunned, and she realized that what she saw was nothing more than a personification of what she wanted to see. "You're a monster."**

**"That I am," he laughed. She shook her head in disgust. **

**"You're disgusting," she replied. "This...this is over. I can't just sit back and watch you beat on your friends and cruiserweights. You're nothing more than a bully."**

**"You take that back," he snapped, backing her into the wall.**

**"No," she replied, her voice defiant. "You're going to rot in hell." **

**The match with Kurt Angle went back and forth, but as Brock went to grab the championship, she ran out and climbed on the apron. "Ref! What the hell?" she cried out. "Brock's got the title! Look, look!"**

**"What the hell?" Brock replied, storming over, championship still in hand. She grabbed the title and they played tug of war. Kurt came up behind and rolled him up for the three count. Stunned, Brock lost his balance, gave Mira the title and she went off the ring apron. As the bell rang and the fans chanted, she closed her eyes and regretted helping out her friend. She didn't want him to sport any more stitches than he had the week before. **

**She felt a rough hand on her head, yanking her hair and she felt herself raised above the top rope before being crashed down to the mat...**

She shuddered, recalling the memories. She really didn't want him coming here. She didn't care for him. She didn't love him. And she certainly didn't like him. She realized that she was young, stupid, naive, and wanting to see what she wanted. She didn't understand that until she broke up with Randy and she took that step back to say, where am I going wrong? Then she realized that she allowed how cute they were to get in the way of her perception. And after everything had gone down with Orton, she vowed that she wouldn't allow that to happen again. So she decided to walk alone, and she had to admit it was kind of nice.

But the connection she and John Cena was having was just too much to ignore. She even knew it. She felt it. She knew he felt it. But she still felt something there for Randy Orton, as much as she hated him. She hated him, but it still took some feeling left to admit that.

She sighed. Brock Lesnar returning to WWE was just going to complicate things. Not that her existence wasn't complicated enough. She groaned. She had a headache from what felt like all the chaos of the past week. John Cena wasn't going to be there for two weeks; promotions for The Marine had sent him overseas.

As she laid her head back on her chair, she was jolted out of her seat by the sound of chaos. It was the sound of a scuffle, followed by glass shattering, followed by a bloodcurdling scream.

She bolted out of her locker room.

_What happened? You'll have to keep reading to find out,_


	9. Complicated

**Chapter Nine: Complicated**

_As she laid her head back on her chair, she was jolted out of her seat by the sound of chaos. It was the sound of a scuffle, followed by glass shattering, followed by a bloodcurdling scream. _

_She bolted out of her locker room._

There was blood.

Oh, God, there was so much blood. It was the first thing to greet Mira as she walked out of the office. Her heeled boots crunched on the broken glass as she stared at the terrifying scene before her.

Brock Lesnar was gashed from his wrist to his elbow, the blood flowing freely. Batista, on the other hand, was laid out on the other side of the plate glass door, amidst the glass and blood. She pushed past Brock and out of the doorframe, leaning down to check on Batista.

"Dave..." she cried. She shot a glance of death at Brock. It didn't take a rocket scientist to know what happened. The scream had come from Torrie Wilson who was staring at Brock in fear with Maria. "Maria, Torrie, take Lesnar to get his arm checked out." She turned to see Randy Orton standing with Test.

"Whoa," Test breathed.

"Shit," Orton replied, a low whistle escaping his lips. A crowd was starting to form.

"Randy, don't just stand there - " she cried. "Get him an ambulance!" He nodded and took off, leaving Test to survey the damage.

"What happened?"

"I don't know," she admitted, turning her attention to the fallen champion. "Dave? Dave?"

He let out a cry of pain and she knew he was awake. "Dave, you were thrown through a door. We're going to take you to the hospital." She was ushered back by Orton as the paramedics began to work on Batista. She pulled Randy aside. "Randy..." she hated to do this. She would have rather left it up to John Cena. But he was gone. She took a deep breath. "I need you to take over this until I get back. I need to make sure my Champion is okay."

He nodded. "Okay."

"Promise me you'll stay away from Brock Lesnar until I get back."

"Mira..."

"Orton."

Her tone left no room for argument. "Okay. I promise."

"Good."

She was speeding down the highway, following the ambulance, when her cell phone went off. "Shit." Fumbling within her purse while keeping a hand on the steering wheel, she managed to answer the phone and flip it open with one hand. "Barerra."

"Hey, Mira, what's good?"

She smiled. "Nothing's good," she complained, although she was happy to hear the voice of somebody sane. "On his first night back, Lesnar threw Batista through a glass door and I'm on my way to the hospital to see him."

"Shit," was the only thing Cena managed to say. Then it sunk in. "Meathead's back?"

"Yeah. Full force." She exhaled as she turned into the hospital parking lot. "Look, can you call me back or something? I'm at the hospital and..."

"Yeah. Say no more." The line went dead.

The elevator doors opened with a ding and Mira rushed in, grabbing the first doctor she could find. "I'm looking for the room of Dave Batista."

"Oh. He's in the last room to your left." She nodded and burst off down the hallway, almost breaking into a sprint.

"Ahh...ahh..."

"Shh, shh, easy," she soothed, as he squeezed her hand. They were stitching up the back of his head and it was the most painful experience he had ever felt. For the last half hour, he had to lay facedown on a bed while they pulled glass out of his skin with tweezers. He was sporting at least forty stitches in his back and he was going to at least have three in the back of his head.

"That son of a bitch..." he wheezed. His breaths were short and shallow; his asthma was acting up.

"What the hell happened anyway?" she asked.

"Brock was being a jerk. He swung, I swung back, he arm-dragged me through the door. I can't believe you ever went out with that guy," he added as almost an afterthought.

"You and about half of the world's population," she replied. "Take a number."

"Are you going to strip me of the title and vacate it?" he asked. The thought made her laugh.

"Why? You need a year off?" she asked. He laughed. "No. But I will give you two weeks off." Standard protocol was to vacate the championship when the champion was out for more than five weeks. "When you get back, you will take on Brock Lesnar in a grudge match. Non-title, since Orton is your contender. Is that cool with you?"

"You're damn right," he replied.

"I gotta get back. I had to leave Orton in control. You gonna be okay?" He nodded.

"Thanks for coming to see me."

"You're my Superstar. I wouldn't have ignored you." She stood up and as she went to walk away, his hand tugged on hers gently. She turned to him, her eyes widening in surprise.

"I really appreciate you looking out for me like this."

"No problem."

Mira walked back into her office to find Randy Orton and Test tossing a football back and forth. "Test, can you leave me with Mr. Orton for a sec?" she asked. Test nodded and walked out.

"What did I do now?" he asked. "Seriously, I am not the one that -"

"I know. Chill out. You're always so defensive," she replied, a smile crossing her face. "I just wanted to say thank you for taking over."

"How's the big guy?"

"About forty three stitches over all. They spent a good half hour pulling the glass out of his back."

"Ouch."

"Extent of Lesnar's injuries?"

"About a six inch gash. Pretty deep, too. Rod had to use about twenty stitches."

"Well...I guess I should go deal with him."

"That's not a god idea."

"Let me handle this."

"Don't you remember what happened the last time..."

"I'm a GM now. He wouldn't dare."

"Yeah. Cause that stops everybody..."

"Randy..."

"No, it's obvious he's still a loose cannon. Mira, I'm worried..."

"Oh, cut it out..."

"It's my right to worry..."

"You lost all your rights when you jumped into the sack with Candice!" she snapped. The room was suddenly dead silent. The time stood still. Randy had visibly flinched and Mira had instantly regretted the words. But she had a point. At least in her buzzing mind, she did. She turned around and just walked out, leaving Randy to stand there in shock behind her oak desk.

The door swung open and she stormed in, standing before Brock with her hands on her hips. "What the hell did you think you were doing?" she snapped.

"Hi, Mira, good to see you, too," he replied bitterly. She exhaled.

"Sorry. Hi, Brock, now what the hell did you think you were doing with attempted murder on my champion?"

"What did I think I was doing?" he demanded, standing up to her. She wasn't about to back down. "I thought I was making an impact." She rolled her eyes. She hated when they used that excuse. Especially Randy Orton. She lost count over the years she had known him the occasions on which he announced that to her or to the world.

"Yeah, well, next time you want to make an impact, make it in the ring," she snapped. "What the hell are you doing here anyway? I thought you were going to SmackDown!"

"That's an Internet rumor," he told her. "You know, like the one about you and Cena..."

"Oh, get out of my face with this bullshit," she murmured, looking up at the ceiling.

"Assuming of course that it is a rumor."

"Or course it's a rumor, you dummy!" she snapped. Then she realized that she was being sidetracked. "Look. You touch my champion again, and I will be forced to suspend you. And I'll send you down to OV to serve it out. No TV, no pay, no anything. You want to try me?" He smirked. It was hard to take her seriously. She shook her head. "I hate you."

"No, you don't."

"Yeah, I think I do." She took a menacing step towards him and that cocky smirk crossed his face. "You touch one of my superstars outside of a match setting again, and I'll kill you myself." With that, she stormed out.

"That coldhearted, scum-sucking bitch!"

Test was trying to calm Randy Orton down, but it was clear the private meeting sure didn't swing in his favor. Normally, he didn't talk about the Divas this way, especially not Mira. But on this night, he was mad enough to hit somebody. "What did she say exactly..." Test began, but Randy went off.

"Who the hell does she think she is, getting off like she's so much better than me. It was her fault I went to Candice in the first place!"

"That's harsh, man," Test had to say. Pinning his problems on her wasn't right, even for all his faults he had to admit that. Never in a million years would he blame his personal problems on Stacy Keibler.

"I'll...I'll show her. If it kills me, I'll show her..."

"Whoa, wait man, what's that supposed to mean?"

_Is Randy Orton just babbling out of a harsh temper? Or does he really have something planned up his sleeve for Miss Mira? Read along to find out. _


	10. Bulldozed!

**Chapter Ten: Bulldozed!**

_"I'll...I'll show her. If it kills me, I'll show her..."_

_"Whoa, wait man, what's that supposed to mean?"_

Mira was in the ring, announcing to the crowd that later on tonight would be the contract signing between Randy Orton and Batista for their World Heavyweight Championship match at Survivor Series in three weeks. As she stood in the ring, informing the crowd of the signing, the familiar jungle music of Umaga came on. She turned around to see Umaga make his way down to the ring with his manager, Armando Alejandro Estrada, a man that Mira had dismissed as a blantant loudmouth.

They climbed into the ring and took their place across from Mira. Mira suddenly felt claustophobic, closed in. Armando ripped the microphone out of her hand, causing her blue eyes to blaze like the icy fires of hell. "Heyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy," Armando rolled into the microphone. "Everybody...listen...to me. I am Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrmandoooooooo Alejaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaandrrrrrrrrro Essssssssssssssssstrrrrrrrrada." Mira rolled her eyes in boredom; after all, he ran this same speech every Monday night. She suddenly longed for Bobby Heenan to come out and slap out Armando. She smiled at the thought. She met Bobby Heenan at the Hall of Fame in 2004, and she had much respect for him.

"I want to let you know that you...underate my...Samoan Bulldozer, Umaga." They began to step forward and she refused to step back. "So, I think that it's time Umaga shows you...what he...is about." Before Mira knew it, she was high in the air and crashed down into the mat with a violent Samoan Drop.

The wind was knocked out of her, and she closed her eyes, trying to catch her breath as she felt the ring vibrate every which way around her. "Mira! Mira, are you okay, help! Paramedics! We need..."

"Shut up," she choked out. She slowly opened her eyes to see Randy Orton over her, his eyes full of concern, and another emotion that she couldn't quite put her finger on. He put an arm around her head and slowly helped her sit up.

"Christ, Mira, are you okay? We need the paramedics..."

"I'm fine. I just had the wind knocked out of me. Help me up," she murmured.

"Are you sure?"

"God damn it, yes!" He understood she was annoyed and he helped her to her feet. He put a hand around her waist, resting it on her ribs as he led her towards the ropes.

"I really think that we should get you to see the doctor."

"I'm fine. Nothing feels broken," she insisted.

John Cena would be back next week. But for tonight, she had pitted Randy Orton up against Umaga and she put Test against Armando. Sure, he wasn't a wrestler, but nobody put their hands on the General Manager. And she wanted to find out who exactly gave them that final tip to have the balls to assault their boss. She smiled in a sick satisfaction, recalling the way that his eyes bugged out when she had informed him of his match.

She sucked in a deep breath. Her ribs were sore. And starting next week, she would figure out what possessed Armando to attempt something like that. But for now, it was breathe in...

...And breathe out...

...Breathe in...

...And breathe out...

Randy Orton was leaned against the doorframe watching her. He wasn't sure if she was asleep, but she looked so beautiful.

**She walked down the hallway, and stopped at the door marked "Evolution". Gently, reluctantly, she pulled back the door to enter a dark room. Moving quietly, she felt her way along the wall for a light and when she found it, she flipped it, flooding the room with light. **

**He had his back to her, still in his red trunks, his head bowed as he leaned against the cubby. The room was ransacked as though he had just had a temper tantrum. Who could blame him? Twenty four hours before, he won the World Heavyweight Championship, and now he was sporting five stitches in his head and was still covered in his own blood, his best friends revealing themselves as his worst advesaries. **

**"Randy?" she called out softly, prompting him to turn and face her. She was a vision in black, and a small smile crossed his face when he saw her. **

**"Mira..."**

**"Shh..." she ran a finger along the gash in his head. "Jeez...I am so sorry. You didn't deserve this. Can I get you anything?"**

**He shook his head. "No, I just want to go home and sleep it off." **

**"I understand. Let me know if you need anything." She went to walk away. **

**"Mira?"**

**"Yeah?" She turned around to face him. He stepped over a flung over chair and gave her a hug. It took her aback, but when she finally got comfortable, she hugged him back.**

Now here they were almost two years later and things had soured so badly between them. Oh, how he wished it wasn't the case. Aside from being what he thought was one of the hottest women he had ever seen, she was special.

With a deep breath, he knocked on the doorframe, prompting her to open her eyes.

"Thanks for your help out there," she replied. She was in a mellow mood, her breathing finally slowed to normal. She was so mad with Umaga at that moment. "How was your match?" She maneuvered herself to a proper posture.

"Nobody escapes the RKO," he told her. She nodded in satisfaction. "Any idea what prompted the attack?" he asked. She shook her head as her cell phone went off.

"Sorry," she murmured. He raised a hand to indicate it was okay and she answered her phone. "Yeah?" A wide smile crossed her face as Orton heard a mumble of panic on the other side."Kurt! Kurt - I'm - I'm okay." She was laughing. He was panicked. "I'm okay, it was just a Somoan Drop." She laughed. "I'm sore, but otherwise fine. It's okay. How are things with you?" She listened to him and she laughed. "Okay. Well I'm happy to hear that. Okay. I'll talk to you later then. Bye." She hung up.

"Angle?"

"Yeah." She put the phone back on her desk. "He's just been worried I guess. The entire Samoan Drop thing probably didn't quell his fears." Randy laughed.

"I gotta run," he told her. "Early flight. Hope you feel better."

"Thanks again," she replied softly. He nodded and he walked out.

She sat back, and a strange thought hit her. Lately it seemed as though he was trying to get closer and closer to her again, coming to her rescue and interrogating her about others.

What's going on?

_Mira's pretty sure that there may be something behind Randy's behavior to her? Is there basis to that...It's all going to come to a head at Survivor Series in chapter eleven..._


	11. Survivor Series

**Chapter Eleven: Survivor Series**

_She sat back, and a strange thought hit her. Lately it seemed as though he was trying to get closer and closer to her again, coming to her rescue and interrogating her about others. _

_What's going on?_

Collective Soul blared through the arena, prompting surprise from everybody that Mira was even in attendance that night. But she was, walking down the ramp, dressed in a pinstripe suit with a white shirt. She climbed into the ring with the microphone and announced to the American Airlines Arena in Miami, Florida, "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Survivor Series!" The crowd roared and she smiled at herself for the cheap pop.

"Tonight you men and women and children will be entertained. You will see feats to be astounded and your favorite heroes. Like tonight when World Heavyweight Champion Batista takes on the 'Legend Killer' Randy Orton." The crowd booed at the mention of Randy Orton's name. "So, ladies and gentlemen, enjoy the show and remember... have fun!" Her theme played and she went backstage.

She left a note on her door that told everybody she would be back and she decided to go watch the show with the Divas. She was sick of sitting alone in her office anyway. She crashed into John Cena on the way out, who had stepped in to take on Umaga since Randy had his match and Umaga was thirsty for blood. "Hey," he replied, "how's your ribs?"

"Good. I think he just bruised them," she answered. The pain had faded the day before.

"Anything that gives you an idea of what pushed them to do that?"

"No. Nothing," she admitted.

"Well, I'm glad you weren't hurt any worse, but what was up with Orton running to the rescue like that?"

"I don't know," she replied. "It feels like he's trying to get on my good side again."

"You gonna go for it?" he asked. She stared at him oddly.

"Are you kidding?" she asked. "Things are never going to be the same with the two of us again. Especially after running to Candice of all people." Everybody knew that she really didn't like Candice and Orton running to her only made her hatred for the GoDaddy Diva even worse.

"Good to hear," he replied. "I don't know, Mira, something seems shifty about him lately. The way he's running with Test. Man, I feel like every time we hang out together, one of them is not far behind." She had that feeling, too, but she opted not to say anything. "Anyway, my match with Umaga's next, so I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Yeah, sure thing, Cena," she replied. They slapped hands into a hug and went their separate ways.

The title match was total bullshit, even Mira had to agree, but she had to stand by the referee's decision. She was watching in shock with Maria and Torrie when Randy RKO'd Test right in the middle of the ring. Not that him doing that really mattered, as Test's suspension was finished as of this night. Paul Heyman called him back a week early because of good behavior.

"Great," Mira murmured. Randy Orton was now the World Heavyweight Champion after Batista fell victim to a blind title shot by Test. It sucked to be Test at that moment. After helping his "friend" get the championship, he got the RKO for all his trouble before getting the boot out the door back home to ECW. "I guess I should wade my way through the contender lineups and go back to my office," she murmured. She wasn't too happy now.

She opened the door to her office to find Test sitting in her chair, an ice pack to his head. He was the last person she expected to see. "Test? What are you doing here?"

A wide grin crossed his face. "I have a couple things I want to tell you. You might want a seat. This could take a while."

_What does Test need to tell Mira? Stay tuned, it's gonna get ugly..._


	12. It Hits the Fan

**Chapter Twelve: It Hits The Fan**

_Thank you so very very much to everybody that has read this and reviewed this. I appreciate hearing what you all think. _

_She opened the door to her office to find Test sitting in her chair, an ice pack to his head. He was the last person she expected to see. "Test? What are you doing here?"_

_A wide grin crossed his face. "I have a couple things I want to tell you. You might want a seat. This could take a while."_

Curious, Mira passed him and sat down behind her desk. "Okay, Test, I guess it's safe to say I'm curious. What's up?"

"Did you ever wonder how Randy Orton knew that you and John Cena were together in New York?"

She laughed. He was there to start trouble. "Orton and the McMahons are friends, so they still keep tabs on me. That's how he knows. He asked, they told."

Test laughed. "You really are naive, aren't you? _I was there in New York. _ I listened to your phone call with Vince in the parking lot. I was behind the yellow car. Now, you wonder how those phone pics of you and Cena wound up on the Internet with those rumors?"

"No..." She could feel the blood draining from her face. "You're lying. Orton's past the spy thing."

Her heart skipped a couple beats when Test pulled out his cell phone. "Had to make sure I had some proof. You can't trust anyone here, Mira. You yourself said that." She remembered. It was after she had broken up with Randy Orton. He quickly flipped through the phone until he got to a photo of her pulling him into the limo. He handed her the phone.

She stared at it. "Jesus," she murmured as she flipped the photos. "Why did you guys do this?" she asked, her voice soft.

"He figured if the rumors grew too rampant about you and Cena, you would distance yourself from him and that would give him a chance to worm back in on your good side."

Her head was spinning. This was a lot of information. "That's not all," he continued.

"Oh, Christ, there's more?"

"Yeah. There's a pretty good chance that Randy Orton was the one who arranged for Umaga and Armando to manhandle you. I think it's for the promise of a title shot, which he is going to deny them." She closed her eyes and rubbed her eyes with her hands.

"How do you figure that?"

"Whatever you said to him last week really pissed him off. He was saying it was your fault he ran to Candice and that he was going to show you."

Her eyes bugged and she stared at Test. "What?"

"Yeah."

"What did he mean by that?"

"I don't know, but on Monday you were manhandled by Umaga."

"Thank you, Test."

"I couldn't leave without letting you know what was going on." She nodded and he shook her hand. "Thank you for having me here to serve out my suspension." She nodded and he left.

She sat encased in the silence, horrified. She had unwittingly made John Cena a pawn in one of Randy Orton's stupid, nonsensical ideas - which she even had to admit, was not like Randy Orton. He had spent the last year staying out of her way, and suddenly he was right there while all this stuff was happening. She had to admit, Test had the proof and Test had supplied motive and it did seem like a coincidence if Randy was as mad as Test said she was.

Then the anger flooded. Test was telling the truth and she knew it. He could back it up with photos and after the comment she made to him, she knew it pissed him off, no matter how right to say it she was. She stood up, coming to an important decision.

She needed to talk to Cena.

She rushed to the door and out into the hallway, only to find Randy Orton approaching her.

_Now that Mira knows, what is in store for the Legend Killer? And what is going to happen when John Cena finds out? Keep reading..._


	13. If Looks Could Kill

**Chapter Thirteen: If Looks Could Kill**

_She needed to talk to Cena. _

_She rushed to the door and out into the hallway, only to find Randy Orton approaching her._

He approached, that cocky, smug grin on his face that he was always sporting. "Mira," he replied with a smile adjusting the World Heavyweight Championship on his shoulder. Before he had time to react though...

...Mira's right hand flew out of nowhere and slapped the taste right out of his mouth.

"You son of a bitch!" she exploded, causing more and more people to look down the hallway at them. "Just when I think that you aren't so bad, you...you..." Her hand burned from the slap. "Oh, fuck it," she murmured and she hit him again. Now his face and her hand was burning and she still didn't feel any better - and neither was he.

"Mira, what the fuck?" he snapped, his temper starting to flare. "What the hell have I done now?"

"You had Test spying on me!" she yelled back, "or does your memory conveniently block that out?"

He stopped, the look on his face confessing everything to Mira without a single word escaping his mouth. He contemplated lying, but he would be on her bad side again. Not like he wasn't now. He made a silent note to invade ECW and give Test a little more where his earlier assault had come from, but now it was time to own up to it.

"I just...I wanted to make sure you were okay," he told her.

"You didn't have that right!" she yelled. There was no calming her down and he knew the best thing he could hope for is for the voice of reason to come along. An inexplicable feeling of rage came over her and she started swinging at Randy Orton. Her job be damned!

"Whoa, Tiger, ease up!"

She felt two arms encircle her waist and pull her away. This time Randy Orton felt a bubble of rage come over him as he saw John Cena throw her on his shoulder and walk away with her into the confines of John Cena's locker room.

"Slow your role," he told her, laughing, as he put her down. She was trying to get back out there. She wasn't finished with him. "Now, I know you weren't just swinging at Randy Orton." She stared at him, her face marred in anger, her eyes narrowed, her lips puckered together, arms crossed over her ample chest. "Come on, Mir, tell me what's up?"

"That son of a bitch," she exhaled. "You remember when you told me you felt like they were always around?" He nodded. "They were."

"Oh, isn't that something," he murmured.

"Test is the one that posted those rumors and photos on the web," she answered, running a hand over her head. "He...he figured if the rumors got too rampant, we'd quit hanging out and..." she trailed off. She was still shaking in rage.

"Whoa, what a genius," he murmured. "Calm down." He put his hands on her shoulders and she felt a weird sensation cross over her. Like it was all going to be okay. Like Orton wasn't being a pain in the ass. "You're getting too worked up. It's not that bad. It could be worse, right? Anyway, not like his 'brilliant plan' worked, right?" She laughed, slowly nodding. "What's up, anyway? You're normally not so defensive."

"After all this time, how dare he invade on me like that!" she snapped.

"I'll tell you what. If I go kick his ass, would that make you feel better?"

She contemplated his question. It really wouldn't. She didn't want to see her champion get hurt. "No," she replied. "Wait till you get him in the ring."

"When do I do that?"

"Tomorrow night." He laughed. "So you swung at him pretty good." He lifted her hand, which was still throbbing and light red. "Think he'll sport a shiner again?"

"No. That was an accident. My palm hit the bone in his eye." Still left a good effect, she thought. She hated Randy Orton more than life itself at that moment. "Too bad," she added. He laughed.

"You go home, and I'll wrap up here." She stared at him oddly.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, you've had a rough week. Go back to your hotel, relax."

"Okay. Thank you, Cena." She leaned forward and gave him a small kiss on the cheek. Cena stared at her in surprise a little bit, and embarrassed, she left.

She got back to her hotel room and kicked her shoes off on the floor. She hated Randy Orton. Damn him! Damn him and damn Test and damn Umaga! No matter how much she thought it or screamed it, it just wasn't making her feel any better.

She changed into her pajamas, and she climbed into bed, pulling the covers over her head. This was getting confusing. She had been so used to going it alone, so used to just sticking up for herself. It felt like John Cena and Randy Orton were ripping that all apart.

What should a girl do?

_Things are going to get pretty bad for Mira when an embarrassed Randy Orton won't let this slide. What does he have in mind? Tune in to find out..._


	14. Randy's New Faction

**Chapter Fourteen: Randy's New Faction**

_She changed into her pajamas, and she climbed into bed, pulling the covers over her head. This was getting confusing. She had been so used to going it alone, so used to just sticking up for herself. It felt like John Cena and Randy Orton were ripping that all apart. _

_What should a girl do?_

Mira entered the arena on Christmas Day with a profound sense of calm coming over her. It had been a couple weeks since everything had come out, and since then she had been chewed out thoroughly by Mr. McMahon for slapping out Randy Orton. Mind, you it felt so good, the five thousand dollar fine didn't bother her so much. John Cena was even surprised at how she just shook it off. He was so pissed off with Randy Orton that she had signed a match for the Royal Rumble in January between them. If Randy still had the title by then, it would be for it, if not, then it was going to be a good old fashioned Hell in a Cell grudge match.

That night she had put a tag team match forth with Chris Masters and Randy Orton against John Cena and Kane, who was more than thrilled to get his hands on the Legend Killer. Nobody seemed to care for him all that much anymore, but she was definitely the talk of the locker room after the public spectacle Mira had made at Survivor Series. She still laughed about it because the Divas were flabbergasted at her actions. They couldn't believe that she had swung at Randy Orton again. But as the story slowly broke they began to sympathize with Mira until she was regarded as a hero. Most of the Divas had engaged in several run-ins with Randy in the past though, so it was hard for them to build any sort of high opinion for him.

She sat down to watch the main event, not making any secret that she was rooting for the team of Cena and Kane when the lights went out. "What the hell?" she snapped. Cena had Orton in the STFU and Orton was about to tap. "Son of a bitch."

When the lights came on, she was stunned to see Undertaker standing in the ring with Randy Orton. Laid out around them like a mass grave were John Cena and Chris Masters. As Mira watched, horrified, Kane and Undertaker had their hands raised high by Randy Orton until her monitor faded to black.

She picked up the phone and dialed Theodore Long. "What the hell is the Undertaker doing on my show?" she raged.

"Chill, mama, didn't Vinnie Mac tell you?"

"Tell me what?" she asked.

"Well, I wanted Lesnar back on SmackDown and I got him. In return, since Lesnar don't wanna feud no more with the Undertaker, you got the Undertaker."

She slammed the phone down and let out an anguished yell. She was livid. The conspiracy started coming forward. Randy Orton, Theodore Long, Undertaker, Kane, Mr. McMahon...why were they making her life so damn difficult?

She knew why, at least in Randy Orton's case. She found him out, and he was embarassed. She slapped the taste out of his mouth in front of half the WWE staff and crew, and now he wanted to get back at her. But did this faction have anything to do with her? She couldn't dismiss the possibility. She wasn't a Legend, but he wouldn't mind killing her at that moment and she knew it.

"Merry fucking Christmas," she said to her reflection in the mirror. She wasn't smiling, either.

John Cena pushed through the curtain, still trying to shake the cobwebs out. He looked at Mira, who was waiting for him at the curtain and he shook his head. "Did you just see what happened out there?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm afraid I did," she replied. "I want you to watch your ass," she added. "This is probably going to get volatile, especially since you're my friend."

He nodded. "Chat time in your office?"

"Chat time in my office."

He sat in her office, still holding the back of his head. He couldn't figure out what the hell he had been hit with, but it hurt like a bitch. "Mira, with Undertaker and Kane on Orton's side, this might not look good."

"Might not?" she asked.

"Have you ever considered..."

"What?"

"Maybe stepping back as GM and let somebody who has handled - and beaten Undertaker - to handle this situation?"

"One - Vince wouldn't allow it, and two - I am not scared of this. I'm just pissed off that people keep going over my head." She exhaled. "I want you to be careful, Cena. You're probably number one on his hit list."

"Oh, chill. Orton's nothing. I can handle that bitch."

"Brothers of Destruction?" she asked.

"That...that might be a little tough," he admitted in only a way that John Cena can. She exhaled. This wasn't good. She knew Orton had started this to prove something, but she didn't know what. All she could hope for was that Raw wouldn't pay for her sins.

_Undertaker, Randy Orton and Kane together in one ring. But that's not all. This is not going to play out in Mira's favor - and probably not Cena's for that matter. What's going to happen when this faction spawns out quicker than the NWO? Keep reading.._


	15. A Pale Rider

_Hopefully your memory is good, because this one brings back another face from the past_

**Chapter Fifteen: A Pale Rider**

_"Oh, chill. Orton's nothing. I can handle that bitch."_

_"Brothers of Destruction?" she asked. _

_"That...that might be a little tough," he admitted in only a way that John Cena can. She exhaled. This wasn't good. She knew Orton had started this to prove something, but she didn't know what. All she could hope for was that Raw wouldn't pay for her sins._

Still stressed out over the occurence the week before, Mira locked her office to everyone with a huge sign that said, "I Need My Space, I Don't Want to See You. The Definition of You? Whoever is Standing on This Side of the Door." It was cold, she knew, but she needed to be left alone. She had match contracts to draft up, the board to call, and she just didn't want to see anybody.

She heard Randy Orton's words to her out in the ring, how his faction was there to make her pay for all the injustices she had made him suffer since becoming General Manager, and since they broke up. She rolled her eyes. She just wished that he would grow up. Hell, she wished Theodore Long would just swoop in and take him back to SmackDown, but since Orton's suspension that April, she knew that Theodore Long wanted no part of the Legend Killer. Same with Paul Heyman.

John Cena sat in the locker room with Carlito and Batista. They were all analyzing and talking about the relationship of Mira Barerra and Randy Orton. It was a fun analysis; after all, they couldn't believe she didn't see right through Randy Orton in the first place.

"I'm pretty sure Taker and Kane are his instruments for Mira's destruction," Cena informed them.

"That's not cool," Carlito replied in his thick Caribbean accent. "Mira's probably the most decent GM I've ever had."

"What do you propose we do, Cena?" Batista asked him.

"Well, we can't let him hurt her, because we all know that is exactly what he's planning on doing. This whole thing isn't about impacts or titles- this is about seeing to it that Mira gets humiliated and beaten down worse than she's ever been, and I'll be damned if I am going to let that happen!"

Batista and Carlito shot knowing glances at each other before slowly averting their gazes to John Cena. "Ah, no, don't even look at me like that," he replied. "Now, what we are going to do, is we are going to go post watch at her locker room door." Cena stalked out first, leaving Batista and Carlito to stare at each other with knowing glances before they followed him out.

Mira had made a six man tag team match that night for Undertaker, Randy Orton and Kane against D-Generation X and Chris Masters, who was still crying foul after Orton blindsided him the previous week before. D-Generation X volunteered to step in when she had pitted Batista and John Cena against each other in a number one contender's match and she couldn't thank them enough for salvaging some of her night.

The match was going pretty good, though the momentum was shifting faster than the time between Britney Spears' pregnancies, and Mira found herself nibbling on her fingernails, letting out a sigh of relief when D-Generation X got the tag or Chris Masters would nail a desperation maneuver.

The match proceeded and eventually Triple H and Undertaker were going fist for fist in the crowd, amidst the screaming fans, incredibly psyched. Randy Orton and Shawn Michaels were out cold at ringside, the result of going airborne from the top rope.

Chris Masters was taunting Kane to get up. He hated Kane. Ever since that loss at WrestleMania 22 in April, he wanted to see nothing more than Kane's untimely destruction. Before he could lock in the Master Lock, though, Mordecai slid into the ring and nailed Chris Masters with a low blow, causing Chris Masters to fall over in pain. That's when the referee came to, to find Mordecai and Kane double teaming Chris Masters, and threw out the match. But the duo continued to double team Chris Masters until Shelton Benjamin ran out and hit Mordecai with a T-Bone Suplex.

Mira groaned as all this unfolded on her TV monitor. She raised her hands to her face and lay back against the chair.

**She was cornered, there was no escape for her. She groaned; it was supposed to be a tag match with her and Stacy Keibler taking on Molly Holly and Gail Kim. Instead, here she was, sandwiched between Triple H, Batista and Ric Flair, all of them wanting that shot at Randy Orton. **

**"Now, Mira, we know you came out here expecting a match, but that's just not going to happen tonight," Triple H informed her. Her face froze into an expression of panic.**

**"What do you mean, not going to happen?" she demanded, her voice growing shrill with each passing second. **

**"Now calm down," he told her, a cocky smile spreading across his face. "What we mean is, we need to talk to you, so you get the night off."**

**"Can I have a mic?" she asked. Triple H looked at Batista and motioned for him to retrieve her a microphone. Batista handed her a microphone and she graciously thanked him before putting the microphone to her lips. "Hunter, I really don't know what this has to do with me."**

**"Well, you are Randy's girlfriend, aren't you?" he asked.**

**"Yeah, but we have a rule: I stay out of his business and he stays out of mine...now, since I don't have a match..." she dropped the microphone to the canvas and went to walk away when Triple H grabbed her and twisted her arm behind her back. She cried out in pain as her elbow cracked and her shoulder popped. **

**"Randy, you have five seconds to get out here!"**

**"Oh, God, no..." she moaned. This all seemed surreal, but Triple H was behind her, the countdown echoing in her ears. When he hit one, he threw her at Batista.**

**"Up!" he sneered. **

**"Whoa, wait a second..." Batista began, leaving Mira in the custody of the "Nature Boy". "You said we were just going to intimidate her..."**

**"Don't do this now, Dave. God damn it, I said up!" he slapped Batista's chest. But Batista wasn't giving in.**

**"I'm not going to do this, Hunter. It's wrong and you know it!"**

**"Fine," he snarled. "I'll do it myself." He grabbed Mira by the hair...**

**"Hunter! Hunter! Whoa, Hunter! Slow down a second! Let her go!"**

**She stared up at the TitanTron, wondering where the hell he had been when Hunter started the countdown several minutes before. "Randy!" she cried out, her voice filled with joy.**

**"Hold it right there, Orton!" Triple H cried out. "I want your ass out here in this ring right now! I have something you want!"**

**"Something I want?" Randy inquired. Triple H nodded, his face taking on a cocky demeanor. He looked down at the championship rested on his shoulder. "Well, H, the last time I checked, I had something you want, so I am going to come out to the ring, you are going to let Mira go and I am going to kick your ass."**

**Triple H flung Mira aside, and Batista caught her, straightening her up. She murmured a small thanks and got out of the ring as "Burn In My Light" began to play...**

Little did she know all that time that he had wasted, where she had been so close to feeling the Pedigree, he had been with Candice. Beautiful, brunette, Miss Candice. The thought of her made her stomach quake with anger.

The phone rang, snapping her out of her bittersweet memoreies and she picked it up by the second ring. "Mira Barerra."

"Hey, mama."

She straightened up as the voice of Theodore Long came through. "Teddy?"

"Ya damn skippy hippy."

"What do you want? Which Superstar did you take?"

"Now hold on just a minute," he replied, his voice sharp. "I wanna see how you're doing. I've been following your tenure as GM and it seems like you're having a hell of a time."

"Yeah, well when you get the dreaded ex on your roster, let me know how you handle it."

"Now, hold on. You think Randy Orton's easy for every GM? That being a GM is a walk in the park?"

"No, I never thought that, but it's much easier to be a Diva and ignore him every week then have to see him every week as his boss."

"And your thoughts on this faction thing?" he asked.

"I'm in deep, Teddy," she confided, "and as much as I think that I can handle this, with the velocity this thing is going... I just watched Chris Masters get double teamed and I know that John Cena's the main target. Don't ask me why, but I just know. Orton and Cena...they've never really seen eye to eye and this just might push that over. Plus, Orton hates me and he'd do anything to cripple this brand."

"Think Heyman wants him?"

"You kidding? He knows how lucky he is," she sighed. "I do appreciate you calling though, Teddy. Thank you so much."

"No problem. Keep ya head up. You got some good people there to watch your back. Remember, go for help when you need it, Mira. Don't wait till it gets out of hand and no one can help you." She nodded.

"Thank you, Teddy."

"Have a good night, Mira." She murmured the same sentiments and hung up. There was a knock on the door and John Cena entered.

"Hey, Mira," he replied, sitting in a chair across from her desk. "Don't look so long. We got your back."

"I can't believe him," she murmured, sitting down.

"Yeah, he's a bitch," Cena agreed, "but, hey, Batista, Carlito and I are gonna keep an eye on you. DX has got your back, too."

"You don't have to arrange all this," Mira replied. "I'll be just fine..."

"What? Locking yourself in your office every week with a sign that says, 'Stay Out'?" He laughed, shaking his head. "People will start thinking you're crazy."

"Maybe I am," she replied. "You ever thnk of that?" He laughed.

"Yeah, you're crazy," he replied sarcastically. "Sorry, but there are some pretty big boys backing our Legend Killer. We'd be crazy to let you go this alone. Anyway, it's only a matter of time before they come after me and my boys." He stared at her. She was taking a good, long look in the mirror. "Come on. Come here, Mir." She turned around in time to get a hug. With a deep breath, she wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him back tightly. This was what she needed; she needed to feel better at that moment, because the next several weeks were going to be rough.

If only she knew how rough.

_Things seem to be getting united on Raw. How far is the faction rivalry going to go. And what is this going to mean for Mira Barerra as GM? Keep on reading. _


	16. The Love Machine?

**Chapter Sixteen: The Love Machine?**

_"Yeah, you're crazy," he replied sarcastically. "Sorry, but there are some pretty big boys backing our Legend Killer. We'd be crazy to let you go this alone. Anyway, it's only a matter of time before they come after me and my boys." He stared at her. She was taking a good, long look in the mirror. "Come on. Come here, Mir." She turned around in time to get a hug. With a deep breath, she wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him back tightly. This was what she needed; she needed to feel better at that moment, because the next several weeks were going to be rough._

_If only she knew how rough._

Randy Orton was smirking. Since his little speech the previous week, nobody had seen hide nor hair of Mira. She was running scared. He could sense it. No, he could better than sense it. He could feel it.

He could sense the new air of intimidation he cast off as he walked down the hallway, front and center, World Heavyweight Championship slung over his shoulder, with his own personal "Evolution" behind him, Undertaker to the left, Mordecai directly behind him, and Kane to the right. It was an amazing, impressive sight, and the Superstars and crew members were averting their gazes as the fearsome foursome made their way down the hallway.

"I'll bet you that know-it-all John Cena's keeping her 'protected'," Randy informed them as he got into their designated locker room. The idea of him playing savior to her made him feel absolutely sick. She was the villain here, not the victim! At least, that's what his mind kept telling him. He tried to rationalize that he tried to make nice, and that after all this time Mira had no right to be upset with him. But he shook his thoughts out of his head. He had managed to recruit the Brothers of Destruction and Mordecai on the grounds of the fact that the trio were in creative limbo. His purpose was to create as much hell and punishment for Mira as possible. And he was going to relish every second of humiliation and physicality that came along with it. Anyway, it was about time he did the Triple H thing, starting a faction and telling nobody why they were there. He actually rather enjoyed it. He would tell them nothing unless it was on a need to know basis.

He loved this, his three silent advisors.

Mira was in her office, thoroughly annoyed. Cena and Batista were having a tag team match, leaving her with Carlito. As though Carlito could save her from the clutches of Kane and Undertaker if anything were to happen. She was poring over her roster's contracts, while Carlito sat across from her, watching the night unfold on the TV. "I feel like the inmates are running the asylum," she murmured. Carlito looked over at her.

"There's not much you can do about it," he told her.

"There's not much you can do about it, either," she murmured back, signing her name at the bottom of Victoria's new contract. "This brand is fucked, and it's all my fault."

He smirked. "No, it's not," he told her. "Cena, Batista, Shelton and I have got your back. Don't worry about it." She shook her head.

"You guys don't know Orton like I do," she replied. "He isn't going to come in here. He is waiting for me to go out there. He is waiting for me to make an appearance before he sinks Undertaker and Kane on me. Or Mordecai. This is about making me hurt because apparently I've made him hurt." She shook her head.

"Don't even worry about it." The sound of semi-romantic music made them turn to the TV monitor as Viscera waddled his way to the ring. Mira groaned. This night couldn't get any worse.

"Shit," was the only word to escape Carlito's mouth.

"Still want to keep your opinion as is?" she asked. He shook his head.

"I retract. We're fucked. That's not cool."

They watched as John Cena was down and Viscera crunched onto him with a violent force. Cena jolted, blood spurting from his mouth from the force of the drop. "Cena!" she cried. "Jesus..."

They watched from the distance. She was there with Carlito, Shelton Benjamin and DX as they wheeled John Cena towards the ambulance. "Oh, my God, I am so sorry. This is all my fault," they heard her tell him. He brushed a strand of hair out of her face and said something they couldn't hear before he was loaded into the ambulance. With Batista's comforting hand on her shoulder, she watched as the doors closed, the lights flashed and Cena was taken out of the arena.

They decided. They were going to strike next week.

_Next week is Mira's birthday. What does this newfound, revamped "Ministry of Darkness" so to speak, have planned for Mira and her friends? And what does it have to do with Mira's past? Tune in..._


	17. Happy Birthday!

**Chapter Seventeen: Happy Birthday!**

_They watched from the distance. She was there with Carlito, Shelton Benjamin and DX as they wheeled John Cena towards the ambulance. "Oh, my God, I am so sorry. This is all my fault," they heard her tell him. He brushed a strand of hair out of her face and said something they couldn't hear before he was loaded into the ambulance. With Batista's comforting hand on her shoulder, she watched as the doors closed, the lights flashed and Cena was taken out of the arena. _

_They decided. They were going to strike next week._

Shawn Michaels was leading Mira to her office. She was blindfolded with a black and lime green colored bandana, and he had his hands on her shoulders, leading her towards the office. "Come on, Shawn," she pleaded, "can't I take this damn thing off?"

"In due time," he told her, "in due time." Triple H held the door to her office open and she walked in, sensing the darkness. She could feel the light flood into the room and Shawn Michaels slowly removed the blindfold.

"Surprise!" the room erupted.There were streamers, balloons and a large banner that screamed Happy Birthday staring back at her.

"Oh, my God!" she breathed. She saw John Cena sitting down in a chair; his ribs were heavily taped from what had happened the week before. Viscera had cracked a rib. Cena saw her staring at him and slowly stood up.

"Happy birthday," he replied, giving her a hug.

"This is so sweet," she replied. "Thank you all so much," she replied.

"Maybe you shouldn't thank us yet," Shawn replied. "There's still the matter of presents."

"Oh, no, you guys didn't..."

"Yeah, we all did," he replied. She laughed.

It was a sweet little makeshift party. They were all sitting around, munching out on carrot sticks, when Victoria burst in. "Randy Orton found a new, female member!" she exclaimed. "And she claims she knows you from before you became a Diva!"

"Really?" Mira asked. Victoria nodded. "What's her name?"

"Thalia Calypso."

They turned to Mira to see the color drain from her face. "Thalia?" Victoria nodded and left.

"Who's that?"

"She - she was a friend I made on the road. We still keep in touch." She stood up, but felt like her legs were going to buckle from under her. "I...I have to get out of here..." John went to reach for her, but he just missed her and she walked out.

"Mira! Mira, there you are!"

She knew the voice and she refused to stop. "Mira, wait up!" She was grabbed roughly and turned around to face Randy Orton.

"Get your hands off me!" she cried out.

"Oh, no. See, we decided that..."

"Help me!" she began to scream, trying her best to knee him in the groin. It was impossible; he expected it and was moving away with each attempt. "Somebody..." She began flailing and screaming as Randy dragged her towards a long, sleek black hearse driven by Viscera.

"Hey - hands off her, Orton?"

Randy turned around roughly, yanking Mira with him. Her eyes widened with optimism when she saw John Cena standing about ten feet away from her, his Chain Gang medallion wrapped around his fist. "What, you didn't get enough last week?" Randy demanded.

"You okay, Mir?"

"Peachy," was her sarcastic reply.

"Let her go, this has nothing to do with her."

"This has everything to do with her!" Randy snapped. "She's going to pay for all the people she has betrayed and all the people she has ruined!" She stared at Randy, her face frozen in shock. He had never spoken like that before. The words didn't seem like his own.

She turned her gaze back to the parked cars, where she saw Kane coming out from behind. "Cena!" she screamed, but it was too late, as Cena was blindsided by Kane, who was brandishing a pipe. Cena crumpled to the ground, unconscious. Undertaker soon joined the fray and Randy dragged her, kicking and screaming into the back of the hearse. She was screaming for anybody. DX, Carlito, Batista, Shelton. Where were they while Cena was getting double teamed?

Randy Orton got to the hearse and Mordecai opened the back hatch for him. Once he threw her in the back, he slammed it shut and pounded twice on the window for Viscera to drive away.

_Happy birthday, Mira! What's this going to do for the growing rivalry between Orton's new clique and Cena's crew of friends? What is this going to do for Cena? Keep reading..._


	18. Search and Rescue

_Special appearance in this chapter by Kurt Angle_

**Chapter Eighteen: Search and Rescue**

_Randy Orton got to the hearse and Mordecai opened the back hatch for him. Once he threw her in the back, he slammed it shut and pounded twice on the window for Viscera to drive away. _

John Cena entered the arena the following Monday, his usually laidback demeanor more pissed off than any other Raw Superstar imagined. The double team had finally stopped when the guys had realized Cena had been gone for a long time, and when Cena came to, he was greeted with the worst news and the grim reality that they had her.

They had escaped with Mira.

They had finally gotten what they wanted. He hated it; he hated Randy Orton. He walked into his locker room and threw his bag into the corner, where it slid before coming to a stop at the door corner. "Any word?"

Cena turned around to his surprise and found Batista and Kurt Angle sitting there. Kurt Angle was dressed in an old Freedom of Choice T-shirt and jeans with a blue flannel overshirt.

Cena shook his head. "No," he replied. "No one's heard from her all week. Her cell's in her bag." They nodded. "Fuck. How could I have been so stupid to let this happen?"

"Cena, don't even start blaming yourself for this. You knew what they were after when they started this stupid thing," Batista told him.

"I knew, but I should have been there more to protect her. God only knows what they're doing to her at this moment."

"Look, we know that she's here tonight," Kurt replied. "They wouldn't be dumb enough to come here and attack us and leave her alone to escape. So here's what we do, since they're all out in the ring. I'll go look upstairs, Batista, you go search the parking lots, Cena, you go and search the locker rooms and closets."

Cena nodded. "First person to find her, call me on my cell," he replied. They nodded. "I mean it."

The skybox rooms were empty, except for the odd cleaning person who was a fan and knew who Kurt Angle was. Kurt found himself growing increasingly frustrated. He'd always hated Randy Orton. Nothing could change that. Especially now. Mira was as dear to him as his own daughter, and for him to pull something like that...he just wished Randy Orton was in front of him at the moment so he could punch his lights out.

He searched the rafters, imagining that they had something big and dramatic planned with her, but there were no purple TX crosses, and no Mira Barerra. Getting frustrated, he gave up and went back to the locker room.

Batista searched between the cars and searched for a long, sleek hearse, which he didn't find. This search was getting tiresome and it was pissing him off to no end. He moved between the cars, calling Mira's name into the empty parking lot, the only reply getting back to him being the echo of the parking lot, shouting his own call back to him. He sighed. She wasn't here.

He went back to the locker room.

Mira was tied to a pole. She knew that much. The pole was cool against the back of her black dress. She was blindfolded, but her senses told her she was in the dark again. It had been a rough week, starting with the imprisonment in the basement, the attempted escape, and the fact that they used oil based paint to paint TX on her forehead. There were other things, more diabolical things, but she didn't want to think about that right now.

Her right ankle was swollen, and it throbbed as though it was in a permanent ankle lock. She was gagged. She couldn't move, couldn't speak and couldn't see and she hated it. In frustration she banged her ankle against a nearby pipe, and that caused her to scream through her gag.

John Cena was walking past the boiler room when he heard the scream. His face immediately lightened up. "Mira?" he asked. He pounded on the door. "Mira?"

He could hear her screams, and call him crazy, it sounded like she was calling out for him! "Hold on, babe, I'm gonna get you outta there." He went to open the door, but found it locked. Thinking quickly, he dug into his back pocket and pulled out a credit card from his wallet. He looked around, as though contemplating his actions, before he set about to work. He finally heard the click, and he slowly opened the door. He closed it softly behind him and left the lights out, just in case the fivesome came in to check on things. He could see her down at the end, tied to a pipe, bound, gagged, and blindfolded.

He pulled off the blindfold and the gag, and he gave her a hug, cutting the bounds behind her. When she felt the slack and freedom, she clasped her arms around his neck tightly, sobbing.

"Shh...shh," he consoled her, stroking her hair. "I'm here. Shhh. We're going to get you out of here. Can you walk?" She shook her head.

"I did something to my ankle when I tried to escape," she confessed. He looked down. Her heel was broken and her ankle was swelling over the straps of the shoe. He nodded, and put her arm around his neck, hoisting her up. He heard the door open and he quickly moved behind a pipe, slowly inching his way out of another exit as Randy Orton walked in with Big Vis. As Cena and Mira made their way out of the boiler room, they could hear Randy Orton yelling at Viscera for not watching Mira.

Kurt Angle, DX, Batista and Carlito erupted in cheers when John Cena carried her into her office and set her down on a bench. "Kurt?" she asked, blinking incredulously. "Okay, now I know I'm hallucinating."

"No. I saw what happened," he replied, giving her a hug. "I needed to make sure that you were okay," he told her.

"Thank you, Kurt," she replied. "Anybody have my stuff or something? I need to get out of this dress." She was already feverishly working on getting her heels off.

"Yeah," Batista replied. "Cena brought your bags from last week. They're over there." He motioned to a red and black duffel bag against the corner. "I'll, um, leave you to get fixed up," he told her. She nodded, and Batista left, followed by Kurt, Carlito, Hunter and Shawn.

Cena was about to leave when she called, "Cena?"

He turned around eagerly. "Yeah?"

"You're going to be here when I get back, right?" she asked. Her voice reminded him of a small child's. He nodded.

"You know it," he replied. "You just go get yourself fixed up."

He was reading the latest issue of World Wrestling Entertainment Magazine when she emerged, changed into a blue denim skirt and a black T-shirt. The swelling in her ankle had gone down slightly, but she still walked noticeably with a limp and probably would for a few days. Her forehead was beet red from scrubbing off the TX symbol and she looked visibly weathered and worn. But she smiled softly when she saw him.

He put the magazine down. "You okay?"

"Yeah," she replied, sitting down beside him. "I'll be okay."

"You're a tough girl," he replied. "You just withstood a week with the Phenom, the Legend Killer, the Love Machine and the Big Red Machine. What are you going to do now?"

"Go to DisneyLand?" she asked. He laughed. They fell silent.

"Thank you," she replied.

"We weren't going to just throw you to the wolves," he told her.

"You behind Angle?"

"No," Cena replied. "I got here tonight and he was here. It's nice to see he's keeping his word about keeping touch with you."

"Yeah," she agreed. Just then, Victoria burst in.

"Thalia wants you in the ring, Mira!" Victoria replied. "She says that she is going to kick your teeth down your throat! You going to go out there?"

"Y..."

"No, she's not," Cena replied. She stared at him sharply. "Her ankle is fucked up. No way."

"Cena..."

"Mira, whether you like it or not you are still the General Manager, and you can't go and beat the shit out of her, no matter how much you want to." Mira sighed; Cena was right. She hated him at that moment for it, though.

"I just want to get out of here," she finally sighed. "I want to get some sleep." He nodded and he helped her out of the room, shutting out the lights behind them.

_Mira's rescued, but now she's pissed. An appointment with the Board should be able to fix that. But what will the Board of Directors be able to do for Mira? _


	19. A Desperate Plea

**Chapter Nineteen: A Desperate Plea**

_"I just want to get out of here," she finally sighed. "I want to get some sleep." He nodded and he helped her out of the room, shutting out the lights behind them. _

**She was screaming for help, her body moving frantically. She was still blindfolded, still gagged, the feeling of claustophobia. She was banging her body against the pipes, screaming for help, and she could feel the bounds coming off of her burning wrists. She quickly hugged her good samaritan, and then the blindfold came off to reveal...**

**...Randy Orton. **

**She began struggling and tried to push herself away, but it was futile. He loomed in to kiss her, his tongue protruding from his lips before their lips touched. But it wasn't his tongue, it was a slithering snake that gleamed blue in the darkness.**

**She began to scream...**

She jolted awake in her bed in her hotel room, clutching the pillow tightly to her chest. She heard a knock on the door and she screamed lightly, then spent the next minute or so trying to slow her breathing. "Who is it?" she whispered, afraid to call out into the room.

"Mira?" she heard a male voice shouting at the door. She knew who it was.

She slowly calmed down and stared around the hotel room. It was morning; the sunlight casted a small-angled glow over the room. She took a deep breath and pulled the blankets back as there was banging on the door again. She unlocked the door and opened it as John Cena rushed in.

"Mira, what's good?" he asked.

"Not much," she murmured.

"You okay?"

"Fine. I'll be ready in a few minutes," she replied curtly and she walked into the bathroom. Cena sat down on the edge of the bed. It had been about four days since he had found her in the boiler room, and he knew it still bothered her. He knew she just had a nightmare, but if she didn't want to open up to it just yet, then she wasn't going to and he readily accepted it. He didn't really have a choice.

She emerged minutes later, changed into a skirt and pink blouse, wearing sandals because her ankle was still lightly irritated. She held a notepad in hand, and he could see her illegible writing polluting the pages. "Ready to go?" he asked. She nodded. He held open the door to her room for her and she walked out.

He held the door open for her and she walked into the WWE Headquarters, into the waiting room for the Board of Directors. She was greeted there by Carlito and Batista, who were there to show her some moral support. Carlito went to get her a coffee; after all, he had informed her, "You look like hell."

Everybody was giving her words of encouragement, except for Cena, who sat and watched her, his respect and admiration for her increasing with each gracious, "Thank you." In the last few months since her tenure as GM started, she had been abducted, humiliated and beaten down and through it all remained standing. He had a lot of respect for that.

A young receptionist poked her head out of the door. "Um, Mira Barerra?"

She stood to her feet along with the others and they accompanied her into the Board Room.

The whole McMahon family was there, along with the members of the corporate board. Cena and Batista gave her a reassuring pat on the back before taking their seats with Carlito, leaving her at the podium. She shot a look to Cena who winked at her and a soft smile spread across her face.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the Board, this is Raw GM Mira Barerra," Linda introduced. "She has come to us today because she has something very important on her mind." They all nodded, and Mira felt her stomach get queasy. "You may speak."

She rifled through her papers, cleared her throat and began:

"Ladies and gentlemen of the Board, I come to you today to make a desparate plea for not only myself, but for the World Wrestling Entertainment brand of Monday Night Raw.

"When Mr. McMahon named me the General Manager of Monday Night Raw, I took it upon myself to try and continue to make this show the best brand of sports entertainment possible, and while I am sure that what has been happening has created a ratings bonanza, I have to stand here before you today to ask you a favor that will in all likelihood affect the brand of Raw.

"Last week, Randy Orton took it upon himself to recruit an old friend of mine into his faction. And while I am okay with him creating a group of friends to watch his back, it has been his actions professionally that I need to call into question. Several months ago, I discovered that he had arranged for ECW Extremist Test to spy on myself and on John Cena, and even went so far as to spread Internet rumors about us. After that had backfired and Test had come clean to myself, he arranged for me to be beaten down by Umaga.

"But these are small fries as opposed to what he has done last week, with the help of my old friend. He and his crew abducted me, and beat down John Cena within inches of his life. I was held in a boiler room for days." She began to tremble and Cena quickly rushed up with a glass of water. "Thank you," she murmured, fighting back tears.

"I come to you today to beg you to please grant me permission to help my men and my women combat this threat to our brand. Please, let me help my Superstars and my Divas take care of this because I don't think I can handle this anymore." She wiped the falling tears from her eyes and straightened up.

"Thank you so much for hearing me out."

She went and sat down next to John Cena, who gave her a sympathetic glance. She bowed her head and continued to wipe the flowing tears from her eyes. Then Linda McMahon spoke.

"This is quite a plea you are making to us," Linda began. "We will have to take this under advisement. We will have the decision for you in sixty minutes time."

It was a long, quiet sixty minutes as Mira paced back and forth, checking her watch. Batista was looking at all the glass shadowboxes of pay-per-view and movie posters along the walls. Carlito had gone to get himself a coffee, because as he had indicated earlier, "This is going to be a long wait". And John Cena only sat, smirking, as Mira paced a trench in the floor.

Finally, Stephanie McMahon came out. "Mira? Can I talk to you for a second?"

"Sure, Steph," Mira replied. "What's up?"

"We've reached our decision, and I really hope that you're satisfied with what we've got to say."

_The Board has rendered its decision. What will happen with Mira's job? What will happen with the war between the faction and the Superstars? Keep on reading. _


	20. Freedom

**Chapter Twenty: Freedom!**

_Finally, Stephanie McMahon came out. "Mira? Can I talk to you for a second?"_

_"Sure, Steph," Mira replied. "What's up?"_

_"We've reached our decision, and I really hope that you're satisfied with what we've got to say."_

John Cena and Batista approached Mira, standing on either side of her. Her legs felt like jelly, but she resisted the urge to grab onto Cena or Batista. Stephanie continued. "I know you, Mira, and you're a good woman. And I sincerely believe you have the best interest of Raw at heart. You have withstood so much and it's made you stronger. But, you are very emotionally unstable right now. That's obvious.

"So we have decided to relieve you of your duties as General Manager until we can work something out, and fix it. I wish you luck, Mira, kick some ass, and we hope to see you return as GM once this is settled."

"Who will be taking over for me?" she asked.

"We'll be figuring that out soon enough," Stephanie informed her. "Now, you just go home and relax. You look like hell." She nodded and Stephanie gave her a hug.

"Tell your family I said thank you," she replied. Stephanie nodded and disappeared into the office.

After garnering hugs from everybody, Mira opted to take a cab back to her hotel room, despite the protests from John Cena. She needed to be alone anyway. It wasn't healthy to have no time to herself - well, aside from sleep.

She leaned her head against the cool glass on the overcast day and began to think. She appreciated everything John Cena was doing for her, but what was he trying to prove?

**John Cena and Chris Benoit emerged backstage after their win over Team Lesnar. Mira was there, dressed in blue jeans and a Word Life ringer T-shirt with her hair in a ponytail. She had wished them all luck before the match, and she was so impressed with John Cena's feat of lifting Big Show into the FU. **

**But Team Angle didn't see that. Bradshaw, Hardcore Holly, and Kurt Angle were busy gathering around Chris Benoit, congratulating him as though he had been the one to eliminate the final member. It kind of irked her slightly. **

**She turned to see John Cena walking back towards the locker room, as though he had expected the reaction that he had received at the hands of his teammates.**

**"Cena!"**

**He turned around and she approached. "Wow! I thought you might be the shining star of the match, but damn! I mean, you lifted Big Show in an FU! Big Show! That was incredible!"**

**He laughed and motioned down the hallway to the rest of Kurt's team. "Try telling them that."**

**"Oh, forget them," she told him. "This is your night. That was amazing. I'm sure the crowd is still buzzing about it."**

**"You really think so?" he asked. She nodded. **

**"Totally. Didn't you feel it out there? Those fans love you, and that...that just cinched it." **

**He pulled the chain off from around his neck. "I want you to have this."**

**"Oh, I couldn't..." She put her arm out to refuse it.**

**"Nah. I got about a hundred of them at home, so take this one. Just to say thanks for havin' my back and believin' in me like that." Reluctantly she bowed her head and he put it over her neck. With that, he walked away, leaving her to stare down the hallway after him, mystified, toying with the padlock between her fingertips. **

**And she turned to face Kurt Angle.**

Kurt had never liked Cena, and she would have done anything to please Kurt. He said jump, she'd say how high. But eventually, the duo had become friends again, and it had become less awkward, but Cena and Mira never really had a chance to get that close. Even when they were friends, Angle didn't approve of her hanging out with John Cena. He was a thug, and thugs, according to Kurt Angle, "Had no business hanging out with the best".

But John Cena had become her best friend in the last few months, and to be quite frank, she didn't know where she would be without him. He had watched her back, thrown her a wonderful surprise party, put up with Randy Orton and Test, and to top it all off, came to her rescue when she was sitting in that boiler room, fearing the worst.

She owed a lot to him. She acknowledged that. But she was starting to feel suffocated.

And Thalia! How could Thalia do this to her? The two of them broke into the industry together, both trained together, broke into the indies together, and for her to turn on her and join Randy Orton? It hurt her. Especially because two days before the kidnapping they had spoken, and everything seemed fine. They were going to get together and hit the clubs when Thalia came out to Boston. Well, safe to say that was off.

She had plans for Thalia, though. And Randy Orton, and Undertaker, Kane, she had plans for all of them. She was going to make them pay.

If it was the last thing she did, she would make them pay.

_Monday is a tag team effort between John Cena and Batista against Randy Orton and Undertaker, with Thalia at ringside. What kind of a role is Mira going to play? Keep reading..._


	21. All Hell Breaks Loose

**Chapter Twenty-One: All Hell Breaks Loose**

_She had plans for Thalia, though. And Randy Orton, and Undertaker, Kane, she had plans for all of them. She was going to make them pay. _

_If it was the last thing she did, she would make them pay._

"Where is she?" John Cena demanded, pacing back and forth in the locker room. He was already in his gear, his Chain Gang wristbands attached, his Hustle, Loyalty, Respect shirt on over his broad chest. He adjusted the visor on his head, and stared at the clock on the wall. It was only minutes before the tag team match between them and Orton and Taker, and Mira was nowhere to be seen. He had been leaving her messages on her cell phone and house phone all week, but nobody had heard from her. It was as though she had gone into hiding.

Batista looked up. "Look, if she's not out with us, whatever. She knows what tonight is and she'll probably make a grand entrance as soon as she arrives," he replied. "You know how that works."

Cena nodded. "I just can't seem to get a hold of her."

"You gotta give her some space, man," Batista told him, putting on his knee pads. "You've been really overprotective of her."

"I just wish that this shit wasn't happening," Cena replied. "She only wants to be GM. She doesn't need this." Batista wanted to say something about all the attention Cena had been paying to Mira, but he opted to keep his mouth shut. Cena was moody enough about the absence of Mira, and the last thing that Batista needed to do was exacerbate things before their big match. "You ready to go?" Cena asked. Batista nodded, and the duo left the locker room together. .

Mira arrived at the arena and quickly went to the locker room to find Cena and Batista had gone for their match. She was running late and she knew it. An accident on the bridge had severed her from the arena, and she didn't feel like calling the guys to explain it. They knew her anyway; she would be there when she was there, and she had their backs.

She set about getting changed, changing into blue valour track pants and a blue spaghetti strapped tank top. Forget looking good, this was about who could be more flexible in action. Tonight she wasn't there to flash her underwear as she beat down the eye candy of Orton's faction, she was there to stomp someone. And she knew a miniskirt was not going to help her at all in this situation. Pulling her hair into a tight, tight ponytail, she took off her bracelet and stuck it back in her duffel bag before twisting the diamond on her ring inward. When she slapped that bitch, Thalia was going to look in the mirror and remember it for what she hoped would be the rest of that bitch's life.

Thalia was on the ring apron, keeping the referee distracted. Randy Orton was tapping out to the STFU, but the referee wasn't seeing it while Thalia was bickering profusely with him over something stupid. Running down the ramp and sliding into the ring, Mira charged across the canvas and leveled Thalia with a spear through the middle rope, taking them both down to the floor.

Mira felt a sharp pain in her neck when she landed, but ignored it and got to her feet as Thalia got up and charged. Mira charged back, taking Thalia down with the Lou Thesz press, punching her and slapping her repeatedly, her face lining red with each diamond incision that Mira's ring made.

The referee turned back to the action in the ring and saw Randy Orton tapping out and declared the victory while Batista attempted to pull Mira off of Thalia. With a defensive elbow to his head - by accident - Batista let her go, causing her to grab Thalia by her dark brown hair and throw her to the mat. She began stomping on her, as Kane, Viscera and Mordecai made their way down the ramp, followed by Carlito and DX, who promptly attacked the trio that came out.

As the brawling grew rampant, Mira continued her assault on Thalia, keeping her focus on the best friend who had betrayed her. That is, until she felt two large arms grab her around her waist and pull her away. She began trying to pry, but she saw the Chain Gang wristbands and realized it was John Cena pulling her away from the ringside area.

John Cena dropped her down in her office. "What the fuck are you doing?" she yelled, slapping his chest. "Let's get back out there!"

"Oh, no we don't," he said, holding her back with a large hand. "I wanna know where you been this last week. I've been calling and calling..."

"It's none of your business where I've been!" she raged. "When the hell did you become my parent?"

"When you were smart enough to get your ass kidnapped," he told her, his voice just as hostile as hers. She glared at him, her body heaving with angry breaths. She went to slap him, but he caught her hand in midair.

"I hate you," she yelled.

"I hate you more," he snarled. She shook out of his grasp and she stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind her.

He stood alone in the office, running his tongue along the inside of his mouth in frustration. Then he realized the severity of the fight and the fact that she had just run out on him. "Mira..." He ran out of the office, but she was already long gone.

He found Mira walking towards her car out in the open parking lot. It was starting to rain lightly, like a mist. "Mira! Mira, stop!" he called out, but she kept walking, eyes downcast to the ground, arms crossed over her chest. He loved watching her walk, the way her hips swung. He shook it off and focused. She was going to ignore him, and he knew it. But he was going to be damned to leave things like this between them. And he didn't care whether or not she wanted it right now, she was not going to run away from this. They were going to settle it tonight. Get it all out in the open.

She walked past her car, and down the front steps of the Mississippi arena, which took her to the banks of the Mississippi River. Cena was starting to get irritated. He wasn't wearing a shirt and the rain was starting to pick up, and quite frankly, it was cold as hell. "Mira, will you stop!" he called out to her.

"Go away!" she yelled back. "Just get out of my face, Cena. Better yet: get out of my life!"

"Mira, would you quit being so god damn stubborn!"

"Fuck off!" she screamed back. "I'm sorry you had to waste all your time on me." She wheeled around. "Let's get one thing straight: I never asked you to rescue me! I never asked you to help me! I never asked you for anything! So leave me alone!" With that, she continued to walk towards the water.

"Mira, would you stop? Let's go back into the arena. Talk. Like actual human beings..." He saw Batista, Carlito, Torrie, and DX on the steps leading down the bank, and he suddenly became very aware of their actions.

"Just leave me alone, John Cena," she cried back, obviously hysterical. She was in the water to her ankles, walking along the beach, kicking the water and sand. The rain was starting to drizzle and the thunder cracked. Cena stood, hands on his hips, his breathing getting ragged with frustration.

"Mira Barerra, would you stop this?" he said, running after her. He grabbed her shoulders and she turned, swinging. He expected it and arched back, letting her go and watching her fall into the ankle deep water.

If you thought she was pissed off before...

"God damn it!" she shouted as the cold water hit her with the initial shock. She sat in the water as the rain poured. She stood up. He went towards her, but she shoved him back roughly. "Just get out of my face!" she shouted. She turned to continue her descent down the beach and he grabbed her roughly, yanking her to face him.

"No!" he shouted back just as roughly. "Mira, you can't keep doing this. You can't keep not telling us anything! You're not going to run away from me!"

"You suffocate me!" she snarled. "Let me the fuck go."

"Mira, would you stop this?" he pleaded. He was growing increasingly embarrassed by the Divas and Superstars gathering at the steps. He saw a few more join the ranks: Mickie, the Spirit Squad, Candice and Maria.

"Just leave me alone," she screamed, still beating on his chest to let her go. She was drenched, she was cold, she wanted to go home and she wanted to be alone. "Just let me go..." she sobbed. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her and held her. She continued to struggle.

"Get...off...me!" she was crying. She managed to break out of his grasp and walk away. "Just leave me alone, Cena, please... just...go away..." She went to walk away, but he grabbed her again, turned her around and pressed his lips against hers.

When he pulled away, they stared at each other in shock, blue eyes locked wide.

_There's no going back now. What does this mean for John Cena and Mira Barrera?_


	22. High Stakes

**Chapter Twenty-Two: High Stakes**

_"Get...off...me!" she was crying. She managed to break out of his grasp and walk away. "Just leave me alone, Cena, please... just...go away..." She went to walk away, but he grabbed her again, turned her around and pressed his lips against hers. _

_When he pulled away, they stared at each other in shock, blue eyes locked wide. _

Boy, he felt stupid.

Well, stupid might not be the word for it, but he couldn't think of any word heavier than stupid at that given moment, so he was just going to stick with that. He was sitting in his locker room, head in his hands, staring at the ugly concrete floor. He had been so impulsive, and so quick...

...And she just walked away.

And nobody had heard from her. It had been a week and she was still missing in action. He could still feel chills as he remembered her ruby hair shining in the moonlight as she took each bouncing step down the beach, away from him. He could still feel that sinking feeling of defeat weighing his stomach down as he stared at the floor, wondering where the hell he went wrong.

Batista walked in, dressed in black slacks and an old Evolution T-shirt. He looked at Cena, a smirk crossing his face. Man, was this guy in love. "No word?" he asked, dropping his duffel bag on the floor. Cena looked up at him, his blue eyes mixed with relief and defeat.

"No word," he confirmed. Batista sat down in front of him.

"Wanna talk about it?" he asked. Cena stared at him as though the idea were foreign to him.

"Nah, I think I'm okay," he replied. "I guess now it's just a matter of her coming around." Batista nodded.

"She may have had a point though," he replied. "You have been all over her the last couple months."

"Yeah, well, when she got kidnapped, she was pretty thankful to have me, wasn't she?" he demanded. The look on Batista's face told him to just drop it. "I dunno, man...I've got it bad, huh?"

"You have no idea," Batista said. "We've all had to see it for the last few months."

Cena smirked. "Yeah, well, it sure helped me a lot last week. She just walked off..." He shook his head and laughed. "Talk about embarrassing. About half of Raw was standing there."

"That's rough," Batista agreed. "But she has a lot to mull over right now. And, if I recall correctly, you did pull her off of Thalia. That was probably the only thing keeping her going since you rescued her."

"I dunno, but nobody's heard from her. Stephanie, too."

"Just give her a call. Tell her everyone's worried and to just call Steph or something. You know Steph will give you information." He nodded.

"Thanks, man." They slapped hands and he walked out.

Mira lay in her bed at her home in Boston, blankets over her head. Every time she closed her eyes, she remembered the way he had put his lips on hers, the way he had held onto her, the way he wouldn't let her go, and the way it had made her feel.

It scared her. For a moment in his eyes, she could see something that she hadn't seen before. She never saw that glint with Brock, nor with Randy, and it scared her more than anything that she could have ever imagined. It scared her more than the abduction, more than the idea of people spying on her, it scared her because now her feelings were back in play and she didn't want that at all. She didn't want to feel the pain of the STFU or the FU because of a decision she makes.

Her phone rang. She contemplated answering it. By logic, Raw was over and now Cena was probably calling for the fiftieth time today. Everybody had phoned her; she was surprised that her answering machine wasn't full. Stephanie had called, telling her that due to her mental state, Stephanie would continue to take over as GM and she was back to being a Raw Diva. Batista called, Mickie, Torrie and Maria, and Cena. Cena more than the others.

"Mira Barerra. You know the drill."

There was the trademark beep and his voice cut through the silence in the house.

"Yo, Mira, what's good? Look, I am really sorry to do this to you. I'm sorry about the way things played out last week. I really like you, and...Man, this is something I probably shouldn't be doing over the phone. It's just. I'm sorry I scared you. Everyone's really worried about you, not just me. Batista, Carlito, everyone. Anyway, this isn't the reason I'm phoning. I got some bad news, cause I'll bet you haven't watched Raw. Orton and I have a match at WrestleMania and this match is winner take all...he wants your contract. Call me when you can. Talk at you later."

She jolted upright and reached for the phone, but by the time she got to it, he was long hung up. She sat on the bed and ran her hand over her head. How dare Randy Orton play with her as though she was just some object to be handed back and forth. And what the hell happens if John Cena wins? She's stuck with him? She hasn't even decided what she wants yet.

Things just got a little more interesting.

_John Cena vs. Randy Orton at WrestleMania for Mira's contract and the World Heavyweight Championship. Things are going to get interesting in Chapter 23 - the FINALE!_


	23. WrestleMania

**Chapter Twenty-Three: WrestleMania!**

_She jolted upright and reached for the phone, but by the time she got to it, he was long hung up. She sat on the bed and ran her hand over her head. _

_Things just got a little more interesting._

Dressed in a black miniskirt and a black corset top, Mira entered the Staples Center in California on the night of WrestleMania. She wore heeled knee-high boots and her make-up was dramatic, almost gothic. After all, she didn't see anything good about this night. She felt like she was just some common Diva commodity to be traded, and she hated it. She was so pissed off at that moment that she would hit the first person that talked to her and she knew it. WrestleMania was not a time to be locked in a cage with your future on the line, it was the time of year where you should be competing and she should have been at the helm of it.

With each moment passing, her thoughts grew more volatile and she got angrier and angrier.

"Mira! Mira!"

She stopped, took a deep breath and turned around to face Jonathan Coachman, who was running towards her with a microphone and camera crew in tow. She put her hands on her hips and scowled. "What?"

"I wanted to know how it felt to know that you are worth nothing more than a couple pieces of paper to both John Cena and Randy Orton?"

With an ugly look of pure anger on her face, she hauled off and slapped Coach hard across the face and pushed open the door to her locker room, disappearing once the door shut, leaving Coach to rub his face and scowl after her.

John Cena was waiting for her when she walked in there. He wasn't in his gear yet, and he looked like he hadn't slept in a week. They stared at each other in silence for several minutes until Cena finally said, "Can we talk?"

"I'm all ears, Cena, but if you don't mind, I gotta get ready to be locked up like some animal."

"Mira, I don't want you to think for a second that I am all for this," he replied. "I'm fighting for your contract, but I'm not fighting for your contract. Does that make any sense?"

"No, Cena, quite frankly, it doesn't." She just wished she could be alone. She had some serious thinking she needed to do.

"Look, I don't want you stuck with Randy Orton if you hate him half as much as you say you do. So when I beat that bitch tonight, I'll take his title, and you take your contract. If you don't wanna roll with me after that, fine. But I am working for you tonight."

The silence was thick. "Why did you do it, Cena?"

"Do what?"

"That...thing at the beach," she replied hotly. "Why couldn't you just leave me alone?"

"I had to make sure you were going to be okay," he admitted. He approached her, but he was scared to touch her. "I know you hate me right now, but I'd do anything for you. Don't ever forget that." She stared up at him, the tears starting to well in her eyes. "I gotta go get ready for the match. I'll see you out there." He leaned in and kissed her cheek.

She stared at him. She didn't want this. She didn't want him getting attached. She didn't want to be in love with him - point in fact, she wasn't sure she was. At that given moment, she felt numb.

Mira's theme played and she walked out, her gaze focused on the ring. She didn't high-five with the fans or anything, she just made her way to the ring where referee Charles Robinson directed her to the cage at the left hand corner of the ring. She took a deep breaeth and stood in the cage while the referee locked her in there and attached the keys to a pole in the opposing corner.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is the Winner Take All match," Lilian Garcia announced, shooting a sympathetic glance at Mira, who didn't seem to notice - or care. "The rules of this contest are as follows:

"The first person to climb up this ladder and obtain both this briefcase and this championship will be named the new World Heavyweight Championship and will have the managerial services of Mira Barerra for at least a year. Coming out first..."

"The Time is Now" began to play and John Cena stormed out, much to the adulation of the fans. "From New Westbury, Massachusetts, weighing in at two hundred and forty-eight pounds, John Cena."

Cena approached the cage and winked at her. But the reaction was still dead.

The familiar power chords of "Burn in My Light" strummed up. "Coming down to the ring, from St. Louis, Missouri, weighing in at two hundred and forty-five pounds, he is the World Heavyweight Champion. Randy Orton!"

Cena didn't wait for Randy Orton to get into the ring, and the duo began tooling on each other on the outside. Mira knew she was supposed to show concern for at least one, but she had gotten past that point of caring a while ago, and now she just wanted this to end. She wanted the drama to stop, she wanted the fighting to stop, she just wanted it all to finish.

She watched as Randy Orton pulled out a ladder from under the ring and the match took a violent turn. She hated this. She hated this faction bullshit, she hated this entire situation, and she hated that she was the one stuck in the middle. Why did it have to be her? Why couldn't it be Torrie? Or Candice? Or Maria?

Unbeknownst to the two men fighting at ringside, she had something up her sleeve and it was going to build WrestleMania into the most unpredictable night of the year.

John Cena was debating on whether to let Mira out, or whether or not to climb the ladder for everything. He shot a look at her.

"Cena, let me out!" she cried. "I just want this to stop!"

He nodded, and took the keys and unlocked her cage. She got out and left the ring, grabbing a chair as John Cena propped the ladder up in the middle of the ring. She slid into the ring and kept her eye on the down-trodden Randy Orton as John Cena climbed the ladder rung, by rung, by rung...he could feel the title and the briefcase between his fingertips...

WHAM!

Cena felt the sharp pain in his back and he fell to the canvas, his back arching in pain with the stinging landing.

Mira stood, holding the chair, a sick smile plastered against her face as Randy Orton slowly made it to his feet. He slowly made his way towards her, too, but she turned around and she wailed him with one hell of a chair shot. With both men down, she climbed up the ladder and obtained both the championship and her contract.

She climbed back down the ladder and jumped off from the third to last rung before exiting the ring. The crowd seemed stunned for a few moments, like they weren't believing what they were seeing. But then the crowd was booing, throwing cups of soda at her, obviously reading on the Internet the apparently budding relationship between her and John Cena.

Suddenly, "I Walk Alone" by Saliva blared through the arena and Batista walked down the ramp. Turning to him, she handed him the World Heavyweight Championship, and raised his hand high in the air as John Cena and Randy Orton both looked on in a state of shock and disbelief. Turning Batista to him - just to drive the nails into their coffins, she pressed her lips to Batista's in a long kiss that broke Cena's heart for every second that it lasted.

They pulled away from each other and turned to the two men in the ring and laughed as Mira was grazed by a pop can. "Think we should give them another round to really hate us?" Batista whispered in her ear. She nodded and kissed him again. When they pulled away this time, he raised her arm and they disappeared backstage, the camera focusing in on John Cena's devastated face as WrestleMania went off the air.

_How's that for unpredictable? Might be a sequel. Not sure if I should. Let me know where you guys would stand on a sequel._


End file.
